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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566744">To the Beat of Our Hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fibonaccii/pseuds/Fibonaccii'>Fibonaccii</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Music, Batfamily (DCU), Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Jason plays guitar in a band, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Tim is a violinist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:42:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>99,436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fibonaccii/pseuds/Fibonaccii</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim and Jason are living opposite lives until coincidence and their music bring them together. The two seem so different, it's a wonder they ever become friends. But as Tim faces the greatest audition of his life that threatens to take him away from Gotham, and Jason wrestles with his adoptive family and crumbling life, it soon becomes clear to both of them that whatever it between them is more than just a friendship. It's just a matter of whether they can figure out the other feels the same way before their chaotic lives separate them for good.</p><p>College/Music AU, slow burn and mutual pining because neither can imagine being loved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bart Allen &amp; Tim Drake &amp; Kon-El | Conner Kent &amp; Cassie Sandsmark, Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd &amp; Everyone, Stephanie Brown &amp; Tim Drake, Tim Drake/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>146</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Encounter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this a loooong time ago and decided it was finally time to take it out of my drafts and polish it up a little bit. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim is not what you would call a rebellious person. He’s not a goody-two-shoes per se, but he would consider himself pretty wholly average. Not antisocial but definitely quiet. He kept his head down all the way through his high school career, maintained good grades—good enough to get him to college but not so good as to be particularly remarkable. In college, he sticks to the paths he knows. He’s the type of person you might see studying by himself in the library or taking quiet notes in the middle of class.</p><p>He’s certainly not the type of person you’d expect to find in a place like this. Grimy, dark, and a persistent odor of smoke and B.O., it’s about as dive-y as dive bars go. Cigarette smoke hangs heavy in the air and the dismal lighting isn’t quite dark enough to hide the grimy stains of dubious origin on the ground.</p><p>Tonight the bar is full, and Tim is pressed into the near back, tightly squeezed amidst the crowd. At the front of the space, a band plays under bright lights. Their loud music stokes the crowd, the whole room seems alive with the deep thrumming beat. To be honest, it isn’t usually Tim’s thing. It normally would be a bit much, a bit too loud, for Timothy Drake. But that is precisely the reason he’s enjoying it so much.</p><p>Being here, in the last place you might expect to find him, Tim feels like he can just lose himself, become just another one of the many bodies packed into the space. He’s not anything anybody expects him to be, he’s not under the spotlight, he’s just nobody. Nobody with no responsibilities. He lets himself lose himself a bit and drinks in the space.</p><p>He looks at the people around him, and then his eyes are drawn to the band on stage. They’re no one huge, but their music is good and upbeat. Tim watches the lead guitarist as he jumps into a riff. The guitarist’s eyes rake across the crowd, and for a moment the pause on Tim’s. Tim’s face immediately flushes and he ducks his gaze to the ground. The guitarist’s attention moves on, and Tim kicks himself. Why did he do that? Here he is trying to lose himself and still he can’t shake the old Tim habit of avoiding attention like the plague.</p><p>Still, he shakes the moment off and loses himself again in the movement of the crowd and the angry tempo of the music. He is so swept up in it that he’s surprised to find that by the time band has played their final song that it’s already two in the morning. The throngs of people had thinned a little as the night went on, but the bar is still packed.</p><p>Standing so close to the back hall of the bar, Tim elects to slip out the back instead. He maneuvers through the slightly drunker crowd close to the restrooms and finds more quiet as he heads for a back door. Eyeing his exit, Tim startles when he bumps into another person rounding the corner.</p><p>“Oh, sorry!” Tim apologizes, looking at the man he’d run into. He recognizes him! It’s the man who’d been playing the guitar, his dark hair damp with sweat. He’s much taller than Tim realized, at least a head above Tim’s own. Tim is mildly surprised to see the dark eyeliner rimming his eyes—it wasn’t something he’d been able to see from the back of the room.</p><p>“No worries,” the man replies. Tim nods a little awkwardly, and hurries to the door. Impulsively, he looks back as he pushes it open, and sees the man was still looking his way. Tim flushes again, and ducks quickly out into the cold Gotham air, door swinging slowly closed behind him.</p><p>True to herself, the Gotham sky is thick with low-hanging clouds, lighting the narrow alley he’s emerged in only dimly with the reflection of the city lights. Where’s the street again? Tim shuffles his jacket on as he walks, trying to burrow deep into it. It’s getting cold already, even though winter hasn’t arrived yet.</p><p>As Tim walks, he isn’t as alone in the alley as he’d like to be. Ahead, a few men stand in the center of the path. Tim slows his pace a little. Even from here, he can tell from their off-balance movements and loud conversation that they’re not sober. Tim could go back. He could try to just slip by them. The road is just ahead… at least he thinks it is. No, he’s not doubling back now. It’s late and cold and Tim is tired. He just wants to go home.</p><p>As he approaches, though, Tim thinks maybe he should have just gone the other way. The conversation dies off as Tim walks closer. Too late to show his back, Tim slowly approaches, and nods at one of the men. They just watch him.</p><p>Tim moves to step past one of them, but the man sidesteps with Tim, blocking his path.</p><p>“Hey, this isn’t a place for kids right now,” the man says with a leer, his breath foul. Tim’s stomach twists as he sees his pupils, even in the low light. It’s clear he’s a mile high.</p><p>“I’m just trying to go home.” Tim tries again to step around the man, but this time the man reaches out and blocks Tim with an arm, stepping right into Tim’s space.</p><p>“Hey, funny! So am I. Only… I forgot my wallet. You can give me some cash for the bus, right?” The other men chuckle a little. Heart racing, Tim’s mouth feels dry. All of the men look like they have at least 80 pounds on Tim.</p><p>“I—uh—” Tim can’t make words form in his mouth.</p><p>“C’mon, I’m not asking for much.” The man looks Tim up and down, grabbing his wrist tightly. “Well, if you can’t be bothered to share, maybe I’ll just borrow this.” He eyes the shiny watch on Tim’s wrist as Tim’s sleeve falls down.</p><p><em>Just give it to them, just hand it over, </em>Tim thinks. “Let me go!” is what his mouth says. Tim looks wide-eyed at the man, both seeming equally surprised by Tim’s bold words. Then the man’s expression relaxes into a sneer.</p><p>“Why don’t we show our friend here a lesson in courtesy?” He jerks Tim’s arm forward, tossing him towards the other two, who laugh.</p><p>“Yeah, kid, where’d you learn manners?” Another of the men gives Tim a shove, and he falls hard on his ass. “Didn’t your momma teach you to share?”</p><p>The first man approaches, and Tim is trying to scramble to his feet when a voice calls out behind him.</p><p>“Hey! Ugly, dumb, and stupid. Didn’t your mom teach you about playing fair?” All heads turn. “Or did they just toss you on the street the moment they saw your ugly mugs?” Tim is shocked again to see the guitarist from the bar walking down the center of the alley, eyes looking much harder in the shadows. His gait carried a new presence that Tim hadn’t felt before. He looked like a predator.</p><p>“Mind your damn business, asshole. I’m talking with my buddy here!” The first man takes a step away from Tim and towards the newcomer.</p><p>“Doesn’t look like much of a conversation to me.”</p><p>“Does it look like I give a shit? Find another way home and leave us the hell alone.” Then the man turns back to Tim, rolling up his sleeve. Tim can’t seem to make his legs move to get him off the ground. Time seems to slow.</p><p>Then, the guitarist leaps forward, and suddenly everything happens at once. In one solid movement, he decks the man looming over Tim, sending him sprawling to Tim’s side.</p><p>The other men shout and start towards the guitarist. He dodges the first punch with incredible fluidity, and in the same motion strikes out at the third. A brutal kick at the first downed man’s head puts him on the ground and keeps him there. The others try to land a hit on him, but it’s like the guitarist dances around them, and before Tim can even really process what’s happening, all three are on the ground.</p><p>The man takes a step towards Tim, and Tim half-flinches like the man is going to take a swing at him. Instead, he grabs Tim’s forearm and hauls him to his feet. Tim gapes.</p><p>“You okay? Did they take anything?” The guitarist looks Tim up and down, his fierce expression gone. Tim just shakes his head, eyes wide.</p><p>
  <em>What the hell was that?</em>
</p><p>“You should be more careful. Idiots like this one are pretty much the only people out in places like this at this hour. Next time, take the front door.” He’s looking seriously at Tim, looking for acknowledgement.</p><p>“Uh—” Tim feels like he’s been struck dumb.</p><p>One of the thugs groans from the ground, and the guitarist lets go of Tim and steps towards him. Tim stumbles a couple steps back. His heart is still running a mile a minute, and his vision feels funny and tight.</p><p>The man is crouching by the mugger who groaned, saying something to him. Tim takes another step back. <em>What the hell, what the hell, what the hell? </em></p><p>Tim shakes his head and turns, and with a snap the spell breaks and he can move again. He turns on his heel and just runs. He runs around the corner and to the street and doesn’t look back, not even to say a thank you.</p><p>It isn’t until he gets home and collapses inside that he realizes he never even knew the guitarist’s name.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>“Hey, Tim, isn’t it?” Tim looks up with mild surprise from where he’d been packing his notebooks into his bag. It is another student, a well-built boy with dark, spiky hair and cornflower blue eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s me.” Tim says, a little uncertainly. He’s seen this guy in some of his classes, but they’ve never talked before, even in class. Tim’s not sure why he’s decided to now. The boy rubs the back of his neck a little self-consciously, and grins a full row of teeth.</p><p>“So, couple of my friends and I are having a party tonight, and, I don’t know, I’ve seen you around. I was wondering if you want to come or something. You seem pretty cool, so maybe you want to hang out?” He smiles, and then adds quickly, “Oh, by the way, my name’s Conner.” Tim just looks at him for a moment, gauging if he is serious or not. He is, Tim realizes with a small start. </p><p>Before Tim can answer, a girl appears at Conner’s side. “Hey Kon,” she smiles sweetly at him, then looks at Tim. “Hey,” she says simply. Then she cocks her head. “You’re the violin kid, aren’t you?” She looks sincerely interested, but Tim can’t help the prickle of annoyance that runs through him.</p><p><em>The violin kid. </em>He hates when people call him that. Yeah, sure, he’s good—really good—at the violin. Yes, he came to Gotham University on a musical scholarship and his music is the reason he came to Gotham U. in the first place, but the words <em>violin kid</em> always make him feel so small, like his skill with the violin is the only thing you need to know about him, all that matters about him. Yet, for some reason, people always seem to think it sums Tim up pretty well.</p><p>Any thoughts Tim had of going to the party drain away. He doesn’t think he can stand hours of “the violin kid.”</p><p>“Sorry.” Tim stands. “I can’t. I have to practice tonight.” Tim hates how cold his voice sounds—Conner did remember his name after all—but he’s already put it out there, so Tim just nods and walks quickly away. <em>The violin kid</em>, Tim replays in his head, and can only shake his head.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>He lets himself into one of the small practice rooms in the Music Hall, violin case in hand. Tim wordlessly sets up, pulling out his instrument, tuning, pulling out his sheet music. Within minutes, he’s hard at work on his latest piece. This, at least, is comfortably familiar. He’s lost himself halfway through the sonata he’s been learning when his ringtone rudely interrupts the second movement.</p><p>The dark pit that settled in Tim’s stomach sinks deeper. With a heavy sigh, Tim trades his violin for his phone, glancing at the caller ID even though he knows there’s really only one person who’s probably calling. Sure enough. His mother. Tim swipes the screen to answer, holding the phone to his ear.</p><p>“Hey mom.” Tim says, setting his violin and bow aside.</p><p>“Timothy.” Straight, to the point. “What have you been doing?” The question seems innocuous enough, but her tone is tight and angry. Tim is immediately on alert. What could be wrong now? His first thought is that somehow his mother found out about his little escapade last night, but no, there’s no way she could know, right?</p><p>“What do you mean? I’ve been at school—” Tim starts.</p><p>“Don’t get snarky with me. Why haven’t you sent me your tape yet?”</p><p>The tape. <em>Crap. </em>Tim knows exactly as soon as she says it. He had been preparing an audition tape for a competitive musical scholarship over the last few weeks, and last night was the night he was supposed to finalize it and send it to his mother to deliver. He even had the tape, he just forgot to send it to her since he’d been out and his night had ended so chaotically.</p><p>“Mom, I’m so sorry.” Tim taps his pencil on the music stand in front of him. “I have it, I just forgot since I was—”</p><p>“You forgot? Timothy, how many times have we talked about responsibility? Honestly, are you even trying?”</p><p>Tim’s tapped tempo increases in tune with his rising blood pressure. “Mom, I <em>have </em>it, I just—”</p><p>“And again with the excuses? Very disappointing.”</p><p>This is exactly why he hates talking to him mom. Not so much as a <em>hello, h</em>ow <em>are you, are you well? </em>and instead straight into the lecture. He forgot to send her the tape. Big deal. It’s not like the world was collapsing around them.</p><p>“I’m not making excuses! I have the tape, already.” Tim rolls his eyes, and he knows his mom can feel his irritation through the line.</p><p>“Enough of this childish attitude, Timothy. This disrespect is not okay. I don’t need to remind you how many privileges your father and I allow you, like your own apartment and car. If we feel like you aren’t taking this seriously, then maybe we need to talk about those privileges again.” Tim can hardly believe what he’s hearing.</p><p>“Mom, of course I’m taking this seriously, and you know that.” Tim’s starting to sound a little petulant, but he can’t help it because these conversations always end up the same way. His mom gets angry, Tim tries to defend himself, but his mom just won’t have it, so Tim falls back into the role of sulky child.</p><p>“Then start acting like it, Timothy. Send me the tape tonight, no excuses.” And with that, she hung up. She hung up on Tim. What kind of mother does that? His mother, apparently. Tim tosses his phone into his bag in disgust. God, his mother could be so infuriating at times. Looking at his sheet music, Tim decides to pack up. He’s not really sure if he can focus right now, anyway.</p><p>When Tim gets back to his apartment, he is still fuming as he lets himself in. He puts away his things and huffily opens his fridge only to find it mostly empty. Great. Just great. So Tim grabs his keys again, and heads out to the grocery store.</p><p>Why does his mom have to be like this? She barely let Tim speak, let alone explain. It is stifling, the way she treats him. And then, to threaten to take away his car, and his apartment? This is truly unbelievable, Tim thinks as he shakes his head. He parks in the lot outside of the nearest market, intent on only picking up the basics before he returns home. </p><p>Tim is aware he is tenser than usual. His body feels wired tight. Why can’t his mom just trust him to have a little independence? Tim is in college for crying out loud, and his mother needs to accept that Tim is adept enough to make his own decisions and manage his own life.<br/>
In thinking about this, Tim realizes that there is not much in his life that his parents did not play an organizing role in. His college, car, and apartment were all picked out by his parents, who “encouraged” Tim to select them. His violin career was a result of his mother’s constant pushing as a child and even now she still insists on playing a controlling hand in it. She arranges Tim’s schedule for him—something he is perfectly capable of doing himself—and without much of a life outside of school and music, there was very little untouched by his mother’s creeping tendrils of power.</p><p>Last night was one of the only moments he was able to escape that part of his life for a moment, even if it was a brief one. Going to that dingy place had been like walking out of a smoky room to catch his first breath of fresh air in hours, and man did it feel good. Tim has no regrets going, even if he had been almost mugged. But, hey, emphasis on the almost, right? He doesn’t even care that his escapade was the reason the clash of wills had erupted today. No, Tim would do it again in a heartbeat, because where else did he get that sense of freedom?</p><p>Maybe he’d have to consider a different venue, though. Or at least he’d stay away from back alleys from now on. Tim glances down at the basket of food items he had been collecting. He runs through his mental checklist as he sifts through the basket to make sure he got everything he needed.</p><p>Milk, cheese, bread, apples—</p><p>With a crash, Tim walks right into another person, so absorbed in his own mind that he doesn’t even notice them. He drops his basket, and his food rolls out, creating a scene in the middle of the aisle.</p><p>“Shit! I’m so sorry.” The person apologizes at the exact same time as Tim, dropping to his knees to help Tim gather his things. Tim looks over to insist that was his fault, only to meet familiar eyes. They both freeze when their eyes meet. There is brief moment where neither one of the moves. The other man breaks contact first.</p><p>“Hey, it’s you.” He says, as he puts the last of the fallen items back into Tim’s basket. It’s the guitarist who came to Tim’s aid last night in the alley. Even without the eyeliner or fierce expression, Tim recognizes him in an instant.</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim smiles slightly, a little awkward. “Didn’t expect to bump into you here.” The man’s eyes widen slightly, staring at Tim. Then, he laughs, his voice still deep.</p><p>“Was that a pun? I don’t even know your name and I’m already regretting saving your ass.” Tim laughs too, getting to his feet. He offers his hand to the man, who accepts it.</p><p>“Sorry for running off last night. My name’s Tim. Thanks for that.” Tim’s voice grows serious. “You really saved me.”  </p><p>“It’s Jason. And it’s no problem. I was just doing what any decent person would do.”</p><p>“Well, thanks anyway.” An awkward silence falls. “So, what are you doing here?” Tim asks, and immediately cringes. What kind of stupid question was that?</p><p>Jason quirks an eyebrow. “Just doing my shopping. And putting up flyers.”</p><p>“Flyers!” Tim desperately seizes the topic. “What for?”</p><p>Jason eyes him with a hint of amusement. It’s clear Tim isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is. “I’m starting to teach guitar lessons. Make some extra cash. So far not many takers though.”</p><p>“Ah, yeah…” Tim trails off. What a different life Jason must lead. Instead of sneaking into bars, he headlines at them. Instead of getting mugged, he’s the one fighting them off. Surely no one calls Jason <em>guitar kid</em>. Tim can only imagine it, the kind of wild and free life he must live. His parents would murder him probably just for talking to the kind of person who beats up muggers in back alleys late at night.</p><p>Maybe it’s that thought, or something about the life he imagines Jason to live or just something about the way Jason looks at him that makes what Tim says next come out of his mouth.</p><p>“Teach me!” He blinks, then tries again. “I mean, you could teach me. I’d love to learn to play the guitar.” Tim flushes. How much more of an idiot can he sound like?</p><p>“Oh.” Jason seems surprised by the request, or maybe he’s just offput by Tim. “Well—”</p><p>“Please!” Tim’s dug himself this far, he might as well dig a little deeper. “It would mean a lot to me.” Jason blinks once, twice, slowly.</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Don’t sound so surprised. We’ll have to talk about rates and stuff too.” Jason says gruffly, but that twinkle of something stays in his eyes.</p><p>“Great! I mean, thank you. That’d be great.” Tim smiles.</p><p>“Don’t get too excited. We need to do a consultation and try some things out.”</p><p>“Okay!” Tim agrees readily, having no idea what he’s just signed himself up for. Despite Jason’s standoffish demeanor, Tim can’t help but feel that maybe Jason’s a little excited at the idea too.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>They arrange to meet at Tim’s apartment for lessons. Tim is a little nervous about having Jason in his house—not because of Jason, but because Tim is terribly self-conscious.  What will Jason think about his space? Is it too clean? Too uptight? Tim wonders if his home will reek of his awkwardness, if Jason will be able to tell just by looking at Tim’s apartment that he is an outsider of Jason’s world.</p><p>Tim jumps up the moment he hears a heavy knock on the door. When he opens it, Jason is standing there with his guitar slung over his back. He wears the same leather jacket as the first two times Tim encountered him, but it is only now that Tim notices the strand of brilliant white hair at the center of Jason’s hairline. Tim realizes he has been silent for a moment too long.</p><p>“Hey.” Tim steps aside to let Jason in. He watches as Jason soaks in the space. He doesn’t miss the way Jason’s eyes widen fractionally at the size of the space. Tim knows he’s got money (or his parents do) and he knows his apartment reflects that. He hopes it won’t alienate Jason. The man nods at Tim as Tim leads the way into the living room.</p><p>Tim’s apartment is bright and airy, with large windows that look down several stories onto the street. His décor is minimalist, there isn’t much that really personifies Tim in here. A collection of black and white furniture is strategically positioned to face the center of the room without blocking the flow of the room.</p><p>“You live here? By yourself?” Jason’s eyebrows jump up.</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim takes a seat in one of the chairs, Jason following suit. Jason’s eyes finish drinking in the place and he snaps his attention back to Tim.</p><p>“So, kid, you have any music experience?” Tim nods.</p><p>“I play the violin.” He says casually, as if it isn’t an activity that consumes most of his life. Jason cocks an eyebrow. </p><p>“Okay, we can work with that.”</p><p>And that’s how it begins.  <br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Overture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Today we get to see some of Jason's POV!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason Todd is not a nice person. There are a lot of people who would call him selfish, a jerk, a punk, a good-for-nothing troublemaker, and worse. Still, Jason likes to think that he has a few redeeming qualities. After all, he can’t be completely bad since he saved Tim that one day. He punches people, yeah, but usually only the deserving ones. But, no, he is not a nice person.</p><p>Someone once asked Jason if he thought life was fair. Did he? Hell, no. Because what could he have ever done to deserve a junkie mother that overdosed when he was a kid, to deserve a criminal father who died in prison when he was barely pubescent? Well, after that he did a lot of things, but that was only because he was forced into those situations by factors out of his control. So no, not fair. Jason was not nice and life was not fair.</p><p>Tim and Jason decide to make lessons a Wednesday thing at the conclusion of their first session. It goes well; Tim clearly has an aptitude for music. He’s pretty quick at picking up the things Jason had begun teaching him. He has a natural talent; that much is obvious.</p><p>“So, see you next time, I guess?” Tim says with a faint smile as he hands Jason a check with the agreed upon lesson cost written in neat lettering.</p><p>“Yeah. And, uh, nice job, kid. You’re actually not too awful.” Tim rolls his eyes but chuckles anyways.</p><p>“Gee, thanks.” They both share a laugh as Jason leaves the apartment. Even though he’d never admit it, Jason likes Tim already. The kid is nice—probably too nice for his own good. Anyway, Tim’s long hair that hangs down into his eyes when he looks at his guitar is pretty cute, so Tim already has that going for him.</p><p>Jason is surprised to find himself smiling as he drives away. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. At minimum, the extra cash will be nice. </p><p>When he gets back to his apartment, he can hear shouting inside. He resists a sigh. His roommates are at it again. He turns his key in the door and steps right into the middle of another argument.</p><p>“Roy, how can we keep doing this if half the time you’re not even here? You’re always off, god knows where, and I’m expected to be waiting here for you to nurse your bruises and stitch your cuts while we just pretend nothing is wrong?”</p><p>“You’re not expected to do anything! I’m not asking you to stick your nose into my business. If you’re going to make a fuss about it every goddamn time then—”</p><p>“A fuss? How dare you? I’m doing this because I care about you, you ungrateful—”</p><p>“Well, you can stop caring!” Jason walks into the living room just in time to be breezed past by Roy, his long orange hair pushed back by a bandana, and a dark bruise forming on his face. Kori is standing in the middle of the room, fists clenched tight and eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m going out!” Roy announces, grabbing his wallet and slamming the front door behind him.</p><p>“Wow.” Jason says dryly. Kori huffs and turns her back.</p><p>“He’s being unreasonable.” She says with a toss of her lengthy red hair. Her bronze skin still shines despite the redness of her cheeks.</p><p>“What’s new?” Jason find the fridge and cracks open a beer. He plops down on the sofa with it, tossing it back. He’s always happy to drown away his sorrows in a few drinks.</p><p>Kori sighs, tension rolling out of her shoulders. “I should go. I don’t want to be here when he returns.”</p><p>“Whatever.” Jason says without feeling. Kori and Roy have been fighting for weeks; this is nothing new. It sucks being in a band where the members are constantly fighting with each other. Still, Roy is their only drummer, and Kori is their lead voice, so they’re all stuck together unless they can figure out alternate means for income. </p><p>Not that Jason wants to. He loves music. It’s its own little paradise, where Jason can let himself be swept up in the rhythm and the sounds, where Jason doesn’t have to think about what bills are due, or what fights are brewing in his life offstage. He loves the way he can channel all his anger and his hurt into the music and use it to create something powerful, something that reaches into the audience and draws out their emotions too. It’s—and Jason would murder anyone who dared repeat that he said this—but it’s a little bit magical.</p><p>He gets to share that with Tim. Jason is surprised at how much he enjoyed the first lesson with Tim. The kid is a great listener, but he wasn’t afraid to throw in a snarky comment here or there. Jason would always dutifully laugh, which always seemed to surprise Tim a little bit, as if he didn’t expect Jason to appreciate his humor. Jason wonders why that is.</p><p>He finishes his beer twenty minutes after Kori leaves, and decides to call it a night. They have a gig the next evening, so Jason hopes Kori and Roy get back in one piece alright. A sigh slips through his lips. What can you do?</p><p>Jason dreams of dark alleys and a boy who was waiting for Jason to save him. </p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>A week later, Tim offers to drive Jason home after the next lesson. Jason had taken the metro there since Roy had the car, and he had been planning on taking it back, despite the late hour and the amounts of troublemakers loitering about at this time. But, since Tim offered—it was really no trouble, Tim would be happy to give him a lift—Jason accepts.</p><p>“You’re picking this thing up pretty quick, you know that?” Jason says as he slides into the passenger seat. He thinks he sees Tim flush a bit, and smiles. God, this kid is cute.</p><p>“Well, I have a good teacher.” Is all Tim says as he pulls away from the building. They lapse into a comfortable silence until Tim gets on to one of the main roads. It is only broken by a loud grumbling of Jason’s stomach. Tim flicks his eyes not so subtly over to Jason, who rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Sorry.” He says as Tim grins. “I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since, well, breakfast, I think. Actually, I take that back. I’m pretty damn starving.” Tim shakes his head with a chuckle. Jason turns his gaze out the window only to immediately land on the sight of his favorite café.</p><p>“Oh, Tim, can you stop here?” Jason asks, pointing at the place. “I want to pick up some food since I’m pretty sure all that’s in my fridge is beer and Roy’s leftovers. And trust me, leftovers from Roy do not count as real food.”</p><p>“Yeah, no problem.” Tim turns on his blinker and pulls into the parking lot of place. It’s late, but the glowing sign in the window still blinks the word open. Tim turns off the ignition and unlocks the doors so Jason can get out. Jason opens his door and stands, but stops before closing it when he sees Tim hasn’t moved.</p><p>“Well? Aren’t you coming in?” Jason asks, leaning on the door.</p><p>Tim blinks twice. “Um, yeah. Yeah, sure.” Tim joins Jason out in the cold Gotham air, briefly rubbing his arms as a bitter breath of air sends goosebumps crawling up his arms.</p><p>Jason leads his way inside. There are a few patrons there; a couple in a back booth, a woman working on her laptop, a group of girls giggling over their phones. The place is comfortable and warm, with casual seating scattered about the room to make it feel more like a quirky living room than a restaurant. Jason thinks it might be the kind of place Tim would enjoy, but then again, he barely knows the kid. He feels a little weird inviting him to food, but he’s nice enough, so Jason figures what the hell. He’s looking at the menu scrawled on chalkboards behind a counter when his phone rings. Jason makes a face at Tim and pulls it out.</p><p>“Yello.” He answers.</p><p>“Jason.” It’s Kori, her warm voice tinged with worry. Jason shifts slightly before responding.</p><p>“What’s up?”</p><p>“Have you heard from Roy?” She asks. Jason can just picture her on the other end, pacing in the kitchen, worrying her lip.</p><p>“No, I haven’t. Why?”</p><p>“He said he would be home several hours ago, but he still hasn’t come back. He hasn’t called or texted to tell me why he’s so late, either.” Jason relaxes a little, posture unstiffening.</p><p>“Oh, Kori, you know Roy. He’s probably out getting drunk off his ass, or partying it up in a club or something. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be back in a bit.” He hears her breathy sigh, sound slightly warped by the phone.</p><p>“If you say so, Jason. I just can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”</p><p>“Relax, Princess.” He says, knowing that’ll have earned him an eye roll. “Roy will be back. Go get a drink or something. I’ll be home later.” Despite his words of assurance, Jason is a little uneasy. Roy has been getting himself into trouble more than usual these past few weeks. He’s seemed shiftier, less at ease with his best friends, and he keeps coming home with these bruises that he refuses to explain. Jason is suspicious, but there’s no need to worry Kori more than necessary. As it is, she’ll probably be on edge for the rest of the evening until Roy gets home, which Jason is pretty sure will be late. If possible, Jason wants to find an excuse to avoid being cooped up with Kori and her antics as long as possible.</p><p>His eyes fall on Tim, and he realizes he has the perfect excuse right in front of him.</p><p>“Yeah, Kori, I’ll be back in hour or two. I’m having dinner with a friend.” He watches Tim process the words, eyebrows jumping up at Jason in a silent question. Jason holds a finger out to him, a wordless request to wait.</p><p>“Okay, Jason. I’ll see you when you return.”</p><p>“Later, Kori.” He hangs up, pocketing the device.</p><p>“Dinner?” Tim asks.</p><p>“Yeah. Do you mind? My roommates are driving me up the wall, and I can’t stand being there with them a minute longer than I have to be. You don’t have to stay; I can eat here by myself, but if you want to…” Jason trails off, leaving the invitation in the air.</p><p>He sees the hesitation in Tim’s eyes, and is sure for a moment that he is going to decline. But then, a tentative smile breaks out on his face.</p><p>“Alright.” The kid agrees. Jason grins at him, thank you unspoken but communicated. “So, what do they have to eat here?”</p><p>“I’ll order us something. They have the best bread here. You like chili dogs?”</p><p>“Sure, whatever.” Tim shrugs.</p><p>“Alright. I’m buying since I’m the one who dragged you on this detour. You go grab us a table, okay?” Tim nods and moves off, while Jason returns his focus to the menus. A few minutes later, he is handed a number to place on their table, and goes to find Tim.</p><p>Tim’s picked a table in a little corner, sectioned off by an ornate room divider. He is staring out the window at the Gotham skyline but turns his attention to Jason as he approaches. Jason sets the number down on the table and take a seat in the chair across from Tim. </p><p>“Thank for agreeing to hang out. You’re really saving me from a hassle at my place.” Jason says. Tim nods in acknowledgement, hands folded seriously on the table in front of him. “Roy and Kori are great, but they can be a little much at times. That’s what we get for living with our band, though. We spend so much time together that we’re desperate for a break from each other whenever we can get it.”</p><p>“You all live together?”</p><p>“Yeah, me and Roy and Kori. Roy’s our drummer, and Kori’s on lead vocals and bass.”</p><p>“Yeah, I remember.” Tim says, probably thinking back to the show. Jason thinks back too, seeing Tim looking so small and out of place dipping out into the alley so late at night. He didn’t forget the bright blue eyes he had seen despite the hazy, darkened room. Not when they were on a face like Tim’s.</p><p>“I have to say, though, you don’t exactly seem like the skeezy bar type. Hell, are you even drinking age?” Jason can tell by the way Tim’s face goes bright red that the answer to that question is no. “It’s okay. I forged my first fake ID when I was maybe fifteen, sixteen? I’m not going to turn you in.”</p><p>“I didn’t use a fake ID!” Tim protests, glancing around when he realizes he said that maybe a little too loud (as if anyone in here cared, anyway). “I didn’t.” He repeats in response to Jason’s unconvinced expression. “I wasn’t drinking.” Jason shrugs.</p><p>“Like I said. No skin off my back. Still brings me to my original thought, though; you don’t really seem like the type to be sneaking around bars.” Tim shrugs, looking down at the table. Jason can see the wheels turning in Tim’s head, debating what to tell Jason.</p><p>“I’m really not.” Tim confesses a little ashamedly, as if he’s somehow letting Jason down by admitting this. “I just wanted—I don’t know—to do something out of the ordinary, to prove—” he cuts off. “Anyway, I don’t usually sneak into bars. It’s not like I’m not that far from drinking age. I didn’t drink or anything, though. I was just there for the music.”</p><p>“I’m touched.” Jason smirks. “I’m not judging you, kid. I can tell you I was drinking alcohol before you ever were, that’s for sure.” He laughs, leaning back. </p><p>Their conversation lulls when a waitress arrives with their food. She is a pretty blond, who flashes a smile at the two of them as she unloads their dishes. Jason’s stomach growls again in a reminder to dig in ASAP. He grins as she sets a cheese-covered chili dog nestled in a bed of fries in front of him, as well as a small basket of garlic bread, and one of the diner’s healthier salads. He knows he was right to pick it out for Tim as the younger man regards it approvingly.</p><p>“Cheers.” Jason says raising the drink he had been poured.</p><p>“Cheers.” They tap glasses, and set to work on their meals. “Mhhm!” Tim’s eyes widened appreciatively as he bites into a slice of garlic bread. “That’s so good!”</p><p>“Best around.” Jason agrees. “I think I eat here more than I do at the apartment.”</p><p>“I can see why.”</p><p>They eat in silence for a minute before Jason speaks.</p><p>“So, Tim, tell me about yourself.” He says it in a half joking tone, but Tim answers anyway. </p><p>“Let’s see… I’m in my third year at Gotham U.” Tim says, and Jason nods.</p><p>“Gotham U, huh? I went there for a semester before I realized that I was never going to use the crap I was studying. Music is what I really care about.”</p><p>“Only a semester?” Tim teased. “Quitter.” Jason rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, you’re a university kid, but what do you do? Do you have fun ever?”</p><p>“Ha, ha. Yes, I have fun.” Tim made a face at Jason. “I play the violin.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. You said that before. Are you any good?”</p><p>“I’m not half bad.” Tim says with a frown. “My parents are kind of obsessed with it.” Jason sees a light of frustration glimmer in Tim’s eyes, then the kid turns his head down to look at his half-eaten meal.</p><p>“I actually came to Gotham U. on a full ride music scholarship.” Tim says like it was nothing.</p><p>“Damn, alright! Well, someone sure thought you were good, then.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess.” Tim laughs quietly, suddenly seeming bashful. “What about you?” He says after a moment.</p><p>“Oh, you know.” Jason leans back. “I hang with Kori and Roy. Go out and get drunk every once in a while.” Jason shrugs. He really doesn’t do much for fun. Most of his time is spent playing music, being drunk, or being hungover. Often a combination there of. “Sometimes I take a side job. Gotta keep the lights on somehow, right?”</p><p>Tim nods, taking a mouthful of salad instead of replying.</p><p>“Gigs don’t come that often, so I sometimes go repair junk and whatever.” Jason doesn’t mention his family. He doesn’t want to talk about them, so he doesn’t. The conversation carries on, and Jason learns that Tim’s family is pretty wealthy themselves. He kind of figured that out that for himself based on the size and splendor of Tim’s single-occupant place.</p><p>He also learns that Tim’s family is pretty distant. Tim never explicitly says that, but Jason can tell from the way the corners of Tim’s mouth quirk sadly when he mentions them, and while he speaks of several instances of them encouraging him to practice or wrestling opportunities into Tim’s hands, Tim never once mentions a good word about them. Jason can relate. His family life is complicated, and he avoids the whole situation pretty much all the time. He doesn’t care. Family is for pampered losers, he thinks. </p><p>Before either of them really seem to notice, an hour has passed, and Tim looks at his watch and stands.</p><p>“It’s getting pretty late. I should drive you home.” Jason nods. He paid at the counter, so they just get up and leave. On the road, Jason tells Tim which turns to take. Tim has never been to Jason’s apartment building before, but Jason knows that it hardly compares. It’s run down, grimy, and reeks of smoke. The rest of the area’s pretty much the same. Jason definitely lives in the sketchier part of town. But, that’s life in Gotham when you can’t afford to live in a mansion or in an apartment building with its own security personnel.</p><p>Tim pulls up in front of the building, unlocking the doors.</p><p>“Thanks for keeping me company, kid.”</p><p>“Thanks for dinner.” Tim smiles at him, which Jason returns with an easy grin.</p><p>“Until next Wednesday.”</p><p>“See you.” Then Jason closes the door and Tim pulls away. Jason turns with a sigh to the building. Time to go deal with Kori and Roy, if Roy was even home yet. If not, Jason would be going out to find him. Basically just another night, then.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Lessons become a regular thing for the two of them. Wednesdays become a special night, where Jason gets to look forward to seeing Tim and working for a couple of hours on music. And Jason does look forward to it. Jason, in general, doesn’t do much looking forward to things, so it says a lot (nothing that he wants to hear) that he has been so easily charmed by the college student. </p><p>He and Tim go out for food after lessons a couple more times. Jason surprises himself—he seems to be doing a lot of that since he’s met Tim—by initiating the idea the next couple times. Tim will offer to drive Jason home, Jason will accept, and on the way back, Jason will just jerk his head towards the café and Tim will smile and switch lanes to pull in. Even though Roy isn’t using the car on some nights, Jason still takes the public transit just so Tim will offer to save him the trouble of taking it back.</p><p>It works.</p><p>Jason is grateful for the break that Tim’s company provides from things going on in the band. If he’s honest with himself, they aren’t going well. Roy is getting himself into more trouble, and he only spends a fraction of his time sober. Jason’s no idol of temperance himself, but Roy’s got a problem. So, Jason spends far more time than he’d like tracking Roy down—it’s not like he ever gets far in his state—and dragging him back to the apartment by the scruff of his neck so Kori can worry over him.</p><p>The joys of having friends.</p><p>Well, they’re not all bad. There’s Tim. Jason would call Tim a friend. He likes Tim. The kid’s witty, cute, and pretty damn good at music. He’s certainly nicer to be around than most of the people Jason spends the rest of his life with. So yeah, Jason likes Wednesdays with Tim.</p><p>He is still thinking about Tim when he comes home that night. His head is down as he walks into the apartment—a notice was posted on the door, a reminder about this month’s rent—so he doesn’t see Kori’s stricken face until he is all the way inside.</p><p>“Kori?” The woman is perched on the edge of the sofa, her long hair pulled haphazardly into a messy ponytail. Her emerald eyes seem muted as she watches the floor. For someone normally so perky, this is alarming. </p><p>“Jason, you’re back.” Relief is evident in her voice. “Please, Roy and I had a fight—” <em>again</em>? Jason wants to say, but it’s obvious that his wit wouldn’t be appreciated here. “He was upset, really upset. I’m really worried for him, Jason. You should have seen him—I thought he was going to start throwing things. He stormed off and I don’t know where he went or if he’s okay. Jason, you should have<em> seen </em>him.” She’s talking fast, face tight.</p><p>“Whoa, whoa, easy, Kori.” Jason makes a placating gesture, but she looks up angrily.</p><p>“Don’t you patronize me, Jason Todd. Roy could be in serious trouble. You should be more concerned for your best friend.” Her eyes sparkle—anger and unshed tears.</p><p>“Sorry.” Jason says. He <em>is</em> worried about Roy, but he’s worried about Kori too. “I’ll find him. Don’t worry, Kori. I’ll bring him back.” Jason heaves an internal sigh. No rest for the wicked, he supposes. He grabs the keys sitting on the counter. Roy obviously hadn't bothered with the car when he split.</p><p>Jason has a pretty good idea where he might find Roy. The guy has a few main dives he frequents where all the right shady people lurk. Jason shakes his head. Dammit all, Roy. He can only wonder what trouble he’s gotten himself into this time.</p><p>Soon, Jason pulls up in front of the first place on his hit list. He parks the car and makes his way inside. Lots of people chatting, drinking, making out in the corners. He scans for Roy’s mess of red hair, but doesn’t see him. He finds the bartender, asks about him, but they don’t know anything, so he hits the road again.</p><p>The second place he goes to is sketchier, not accessible from the main road. He has to park a block away and walk in. The place smells thickly sweet, incense candles burning. Jason suspects that it’s to mask the scent of shadier substances. He knows this place is a popular nest for people looking to get high. He is really hoping not to find Roy here, but it wouldn’t be the first time if he was Sure enough, over in the shadows, is a man with an unmistakable mop of stringy red hair. He is by himself, slouching over the table. Jason marches over to him and grabs his shoulder. Roy jerks sluggishly at Jason.</p><p>“Come on. We’re getting out of here.” Jason growls.</p><p>“Jay-jay.” Roy slurs. He knocks over the mostly empty drink of alcohol in front of him, but Jason doesn’t care. He yanks the man up by his jacket. “Hey.” Roy protests without the necessary vigor. He is obviously drunk, if not high.</p><p>“Damn, Roy. Kori is going to lose her shit when she sees you like this.” Jason grumbles to the man as he has to throw Roy’s arm around his shoulder to keep him upright. “You alright? Do I need to take you home or to a hospital?” Jason asks.</p><p>“Home. S’fine. M’fine.” Roy murmurs, leaning heavily on his friend.</p><p>“Home it is. You are going straight to bed to sleep this shit off. Or the bathroom. Whichever comes first.” Jason is pretty much talking to himself. Thankfully, Roy is at least able to walk with Jason’s support. It saves both of them the humiliation of Jason having to carry Roy.</p><p>Jason helps Roy stagger over to the car, and buckles him in. He drives in terse silence, and Roy doesn’t attempt to talk. Twenty minutes later he returns to the apartment with Roy.</p><p>Kori jumps over to the man’s other side as soon as the two come in.</p><p>“Roy!” She pats his cheek gently, and his glassy eyes swing lazily to give her a half-focused look. “Thank you for bringing him home, Jason,” she says.</p><p>“Yeah.” he says gruffly. “Say goodnight, Kori, ‘cause I’m getting Roy’s sorry ass to bed now.”</p><p>“Rest well, Roy.” Kori gives Roy a hug, concern and relief blended across her face. Roy mumbles an acknowledgment and follows Jason’s prodding towards their room. The two boys shared a room housing two full beds and an attached bathroom, with Kori having her own room and bath. Jason shoves Roy in.</p><p>“I hope you can take care of yourself, because I’m not helping you out there.” Roy nods, managing to at least stand on his own, though he wavers. “Ten minutes, Speedy, and you better be done.” Jason closes the door on the man. He isn’t sure if he would be able to wash up, but Jason figures Roy will either struggle through the tasks or Jason will have to come haul him from a dozing position on the toilet to his bed.</p><p>Jason makes his way out to where Kori is sitting on the couch, her elbows resting on her knees as she kneads small circles on her temples.</p><p>“How is he?” she asks.</p><p>“I don’t know.” Jason answers honestly. “It could go either way. I’ll check up on him in a few.”</p><p>“Oh, Jason. What are we going to do with him?” Kori shakes her head.</p><p>Jason doesn’t answer, instead electing to grab a drink from the fridge, because he sure as hell needs one. He thinks he could use something a little stronger as Jason waits patiently for five minutes. Then, he gets up.</p><p>“Time to go see if Roy’s cleaned up. Though, with a face like that, there’s only so much you can do.” A weak attempt at humor, but Kori smiles wanly anyway. </p><p>“Roy?” Jason raps on the bathroom door. “You done yet?” There is no response, and Jason leans in to see if he can hear Roy rustling around. He can’t. Passed out on the toilet it is, then.</p><p>“Roy? I’m coming in, so if you’re naked, cover up.” Jason pushes his way in. What he finds is a bit more alarming than he expected.</p><p>The red-haired man is sprawled on his back on the floor, eyes half open. There is a syringe laying inches from Roy’s fingertips. His chest is still, and for a horrifying second Jason thinks he isn’t breathing. Then the man takes the tiniest of breathes, and Jason jumps down to his side.</p><p>“Roy? Roy!” Jason’s voice is gets louder as he notices the bluish tint Roy’s lips have taken. He throws his head down on Roy’s chest to listen for his pulse. It comes, but weak and unsteady, as if it could taper off at any moment. Shit, shit, <em>shit</em>.</p><p>“Kori!” Jason bellows. “Call an ambulance! Roy’s overdosed!” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Hospital</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They reach the hospital just as the clock is ticking its way past midnight. Roy is rushed away on a stretcher, doctors barking orders at one another. Jason wraps a protective arm around Kori, who is shivering. He rubs her arm and whispers comforting words, but neither of them feel particularly reassured.</p><p>How could this have happened? How long had Roy been using? Jason knew he’d had brushes with substances, but he didn’t think things had gotten this bad. <em>God, I’m so stupid. I saw him spiraling down and still couldn’t help him. </em>Jason wants to follow Roy to wherever they’re taking him, but he and Kori are shuffled into a waiting room.</p><p>Jason loathes the stark, sterile whiteness of the room. There are a few other people in there, but it’s too quiet. The feeling of helplessness is overwhelming, making Jason’s throat tight with worry. <em>If you die now Roy, I’ll kill you. </em>He wants— needs to know what’s happening. How bad is it? Is Roy okay right now? Will he make it? Jason feels like his head is buzzing in the wrong kind of way. Five, ten, then thirty whole minutes pass before anyone comes to talk to Jason and Kori.</p><p>The doctor’s face is grim, but he doesn’t bear the worst news. Roy is okay. He’s going to make it through the night. But he came very close to death. Jason doesn’t know how to feel when he hears that. He doesn’t want to think about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t found Roy or if he sent him straight to bed. Kori weeps with relief when they’re told, but her grief is quickly followed by deep fatigue as they go on.</p><p>Roy can’t continue on like he has been. They’re asked a couple of questions, and strongly urged to encourage Roy to seek treatment. They’re told Roy has a long and difficult road ahead of him. The idea of rehab is thrown around a couple times. Jason feels numb.</p><p>They ask to see Roy, but are told they’re outside of visiting hours.</p><p>“Please.” Kori begs. “Please. We need to see him for ourselves. I need to see that he’s okay.” It’s clear the doctor is against it, but he concedes, and they’re led to where Roy is.       </p><p>An ugly feeling crawls over Jason’s skin when he sees Roy laid out on the hospital bed, face devoid of color and IV slowly filtering fluids through his systems. Kori flies to Roy’s side, grasping his hand. Jason lingers.</p><p>Roy responds with a quiet murmur, shifting slightly.</p><p>“He’s responsive to outside stimulus, which is good.” A nurse occupied at Roy’s station explains to them as she scribbles something down on a clipboard.</p><p>Kori nods at her and squeezes Roy’s hand again.</p><p>“When will he wake?”</p><p>“Not sure, hon, but if I had to give it my best guess it won’t be at least for another several hours, at least not until it’s light. He’s going to need a lot of rest after all his body’s been through. You want my advice, go home, catch a few hours where you can, and come back at six or seven. He’s stable; nothing’s going to happen while you go.”</p><p>Kori nods, but Jason knows neither he nor Kori will be leaving until they talk to Roy. After another minute of fiddling with settings and jotting down notes, the nurse leaves them in the relative privacy of the open room. The curtain is drawn around the area, giving them the semblance of their own space. Kori sits delicately at the edge of the bed, resting her palm on Roy’s knee. Jason moves to stand by Roy’s head.</p><p>He kind of wants to talk to Roy in his sleep, but Jason’s no sap, so he doesn’t. Kori doesn’t either. They just sit there, staring at their friend. It is weird seeing Roy like this, because while he’s drunk himself unconscious before he’s never been this <em>pale</em> and so deathly still. He would look like a cadaver if it wasn’t for the slow, even breathes making his chest rise and fall.</p><p>Roy will probably be okay. But the big question is: what comes next?</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Kori ends up drifting off for an hour or two on Jason’s arm back in the waiting room. He thinks about catching a few minutes of sleep, but decides against it. If he falls asleep, his head will be bleary for ages after he wakes again, which Jason would rather avoid. Thus, he sits in wakeful vigilance waiting for Roy. <em>Rehab. Damn. </em>Jason, mostly out of boredom, decides to look over the pamphlets about rehab options. As he reads, he doesn’t like the implications of what he’s seeing. This isn’t going to be over quickly. Roy has a long struggle ahead. It’s hard to imagine him doing anything else until he gets better. <em>What’s going to happen to the band? </em>Jason feels like a bit of an ass even worrying about the band, but the band is his life, and if he loses it not only will he be hurting financially, but he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself. He and Kori obviously can’t carry on the group just the two of them. They already had enough difficulties trying to manage things with just the three of them, but without Roy, he knows they won’t be able to pull it off.</p><p>Jason is still contemplating what comes next when the hospital staff let them know they can come back in for visiting hours. He gently shakes Kori awake, and they make their way back to the ward Roy is in. He looks weary and ragged, but he is awake when they come in.</p><p>“Roy!” Kori cries, launching herself into a hug. Roy winces as she squeezes him tight, blinking blearily.</p><p>“Kori.” He sounds, quite frankly, horrible, but Jason expected as much. He did almost die, after all.</p><p>“Hey.” Jason says simply.</p><p>“Hey.” Roy gives a nod of acknowledgement, then looks as if he regrets it. He squeezes his eyes shut and blinks them several times rapidly.</p><p>“How you holding up?” Jason asks.</p><p>“As good as can be expected.” Roy laughs hoarsely and without humor. “The nurses here aren’t even hot.”</p><p>Jason suddenly feels angry, all the worry falling away now that the stupid idiot was <em>okay.</em></p><p>“What the hell were you thinking?” Jason says abruptly. Kori looks shocked that Jason would just blurt that out—she really shouldn’t be surprised at this point—but Roy looks resigned to the question.</p><p>“I wasn’t thinking.”</p><p>“Damn right you weren’t! You almost <em>died</em>, Roy.” Jason tries to keep his voice down, but his fury rises hot and fast. Kori watches the exchange unhappily.</p><p>“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know how close I was to that edge?” Roy bites right back.</p><p>“What’re you even doing screwing around with that stuff? How long?” Jason demands. He’s being rude and insensitive, but his best friend was almost the cause of his own death, and Jason can’t just forgive that. Roy looks away, and Jason chuffs. “No, of course not. How dare you just throw your life away like that? You know what that shit leads to, does to you?”</p><p>“Of course I <em>know, </em>Jason, I just didn’t care—”</p><p>“Of course you didn’t care! I even can’t believe you would try to throw your life away and not think about what it would do to Kori or me—”</p><p>“Not everything is about <em>you, </em>Jason.” Roy snarls.</p><p>“No, this is about you trying to commit <em>suicide!</em>”</p><p>“It wasn’t like that!”</p><p>“Then what the hell was it like? Because it sure as hell looked like you tossing everything you have in the trash like it was worthless—”</p><p>“<em>Enough</em>!” Kori bellows, jumping to her feet, her angry words shutting the other two up. “That is <em>enough. </em>Have we not had enough pain for today? You two should be ashamed of yourselves. You are best friends, and yet you squabble like children!” She glares at both of them in turn.</p><p>The silence is deafening before either of them speaks.</p><p>“Sorry.” Roy says softly.</p><p>“Sorry.” Jason murmurs after.</p><p>“Now, can we please have this conversation like adults?” She asks, and they both nodded.</p><p>“Roy, it doesn’t matter to me why this happened. What matters is that this will <em>never </em>happen again. Do you understand me?” She gives him <em>the </em>look, the one where it seems as if her green eyes were aflame with anger and that she might kill you if you don’t comply.</p><p>“Yeah.” His voice is soft.</p><p>“Good. Then we can discuss rehab.”</p><p>“<em>Kori,</em>” Roy groans, tilting his head back. “At least let me feel a little less dead first.”</p><p>She glares at him, and he sighs and shuts his eyes.</p><p>“Fine. Whatever. Rehab. Let’s talk about it.”</p><p>And that was beginning of the end of their band. They just didn’t know it yet.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>They decide a treatment plan. Roy will stay at a rehab facility outside of Gotham. There will be no coming back during that time to play with the band. In fact, Roy won’t come out to Gotham for much of anything. The band is officially off, at least until Roy’s health improves. And there’s no guarantee when that will be. It’s going to seriously screw with Jason’s life, but he can’t deny that Roy <em>has </em>to clean up his act. So he and Kori are now out of their main job and paying their rent just the two of them. Fine. Okay. Jason will take on a full-time job or something. They’ll get through this. They have to.</p><p>Still, Jason can’t shake the overwhelming feeling of loss. The band, despite all their problems, was the best thing in his life, and now it’s all gone to hell. Jason can’t stop watching the way Roy’s fingers tremble as they talk, a constant reminder of Roy’s brush with death. If Jason’s frank, it scares the hell out of him. It scares him that this went under the radar for who knows how long. Roy had to have stashes of the stuff in the apartment, but despite them sharing everything aside from a toothbrush, Jason never noticed anything. He feels like such an idiot. What kind of friend was he?</p><p>When Kori declares that she’s going to scour the apartment for Roy’s stash, he feels mildly nauseous. He doesn’t want to see that. Finding any drugs will be a clear blow to Jason’s pride as a friend, each stash a slash to his ego and reminder that <em>he </em>failed to notice when things were getting bad.</p><p>God, he’s a mess, Jason realizes as he makes a stop at the bathroom. His eyes are bloodshot from the lack of sleep, his hair rumpled from constantly running his fingers through it. He needs a cigarette <em>now</em>.            </p><p>He takes the elevator down to the ground level, exiting. In deference to the signs, he walks a few blocks away so he’s not smoking right outside the hospital (Jason is ass, but not <em>that </em>much of one). He reaches into his jacket pocket to grab the pack, only to find the pocket empty. Of course, he left the cigarettes in his other jacket’s pocket. Of course. Jason stifled a groan. He turns his pockets out, but only has three dollars. He growls, patting himself down in search of his wallet, but no, it’s in the hospital room with Roy. Great. Just great.</p><p>Jason is having a bad day. Like a really bad day. First all the business with Roy, then leaving his cigarettes at home, then only having a pocket change and leaving his wallet in the hospital. Also, it’s freezing. The Gotham air bites at his ears and face with razor-bladed teeth. Seriously, what else could go wrong? Maybe he could get hit by a bus or something? At this point, he might just step out willingly. Jason is pondering it when a voice sounds behind him.</p><p>“Jason?” He turns and sees Tim bundled up in a peacoat and scarf, nose red from the bitter cold.</p><p>“Tim.” Jason’s voice is surprised. He hadn’t expected to run into him here. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Uh, Gotham U. is just down the road, and I was walking to get some food.”</p><p>“In this cold?” Jason says dubiously.</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim shrugs. “I like it. Helps me think clearer. What are you doing here?” Jason watches as an ambulance whizzes by towards Gotham General, and he threads his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time.</p><p>“I—We—” He’s struggling to get the words out for some reason. Finally he jerks his thumb towards the hospital behind him. “A friend decided the hospital was the place to be right now, I guess,” Jason says, trying to force a smile on his face. “So I’ve been here all night at good ol’ Gotham General waiting.”</p><p>Tim’s smile immediately falls away.</p><p>“I’m so sorry! What happened? Is everyone else okay? How long have you been here?” Jason shook his head.</p><p>“Damn, kid, if I had known this was going to turn into twenty questions I wouldn’t have told you in the first place.” Tim’s expression melts into embarrassment.</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p> “S’fine.” Jason takes a deep breath. “I’m okay. It’s my friend Roy.”</p><p>“The drummer.” Statement, not a question.</p><p>“Yeah. He nearly overdosed on some nasty shit last night. We rushed him over here for treatment, and waited all night. He’s going to be okay.” Jason says before Tim can ask. “Well, if you can call being in rehab for the foreseeable future <em>okay</em>.”</p><p>“God, I’m sorry.” Tim says, his eyebrows turning up at the corners, brow wrinkled with concern. If Jason wasn’t so fixated on his own misery, he might have noted that he looked pretty cute when he was worried. “That’s awful.”</p><p>“You’re telling me.”</p><p>“How are you doing? Wait, never mind. Stupid question.”</p><p>Jason chuckles mirthlessly. “I should get back. Roy’s waiting.” Jason says, because he is tired, so tired, and just wants to go to the apartment and sleep, but that’s where Roy nearly died less than twenty-four hours ago, and he’s not ready to deal with that. So tired.</p><p>“Jason, no offense, but you look like crap. You look like you need a shower and three cups of coffee. When was the last time you ate? Last time you slept?” Tim asks, looking full well like he knows the answer. “Come on. We’re going to grab you some coffee and a hot pastry.” Tim says firmly. He looked Jason in the eye, making it clear he was ordering, not inviting.</p><p>Jason thinks about protesting, but a particularly cold breeze steals his breath and suddenly hot coffee sounds ten times better. “Alright.” Jason says mildly, following as Tim leads the way to a local café across the street. Jason has too little energy to do much else other than take the seat across from Tim.</p><p>“Stay here.” The college student orders, and gets up to order at the counter. Jason puts his elbows on the table and drops his head into his palms. What is he going to do? He really doesn’t like the prospect of another night at the hospital but he doesn’t want to be at the apartment when Kori is taking it apart, either. Maybe he can rush home and shower at least before Kori gets back—but, no, the bathroom is tainted, the offending syringe probably still laying on the tile floor.</p><p>Maybe he can go to a motel for a night. <em>Yeah, with whose money? </em>He’s going to have to go back to the apartment eventually, but the thought makes his stomach flip. Roy will be moved out to go to rehab within the week, and the thought of Roy’s sprawling mess gone, packed away makes Jason feel cold.</p><p>“Jason?” Tim returns, two cups in hand and two bags carefully held in his fingers. Jason lifts his head from his hands and gives a weak smile to Tim as he passes over the drink. The hot cup feels great in Jason’s frozen fingers, and he immediately takes a sip. It scalds his tongue but Jason relishes in the warm feeling that slides down into his stomach.</p><p>They don’t talk for a minute, enjoying the food quietly. Jason hadn’t realized how hungry he was, but as soon as food hits his lips, his stomach remembers how empty it is and quickly reignites his appetite. He devours the bagel Tim had picked out for him. Tim raises an eyebrow at him and slides his own untouched bagel across the table. Jason wants to decline but his stomach belays that order. Instead, he seizes it and eats it with the same fervor as the first one. Tim’s eyes don’t leave Jason as he eats, his expression sharp.</p><p>“Jason, you’re not alright.”</p><p>“Understatement of the century.” Jason says bitterly.</p><p>“What’s going on?”</p><p>“I told you.”</p><p>“Yeah, but what’s going on with you?” Tim looks at Jason as if he’s trying to get inside his head and figure out what he’s thinking. Jason looks away, grabbing the stir stick in his coffee and making absent circles. He doesn’t really want to talk to Tim about this, but on the other hand he would love to talk to <em>somebody</em>.</p><p>“Kori’s sweeping the apartment for Roy’s stash tonight.” Jason starts with a statement, nothing that had to do with feelings or whatever. Tim nods thoughtfully.</p><p>“You don’t want to be there?” The kid is perceptive, or maybe Jason is just too fried to mask his emotions at this point. Jason shakes his head rather than answering. Tim falls silent, pursing his lips. Jason thinks he is deep in thought. “What are you going to do?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I just can’t be there.” Jason shakes his head again. What indeed. Tim bites his lip, looking into the depths of his own coffee.</p><p>“You could come stay with me.” Jason looks up at Tim sharply.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You could use the spare bedroom at my apartment tonight, if you wanted to.” Tim looks suddenly tentative. “I don’t mind. You’ve been over before, so you know what my place is like. It doesn’t have to be anything weird, you can just crash there until you’re ready to go back.”</p><p>Jason studies Tim, but he can’t detect any hints of insincerity. Jason stares as he turns the idea over in his head. It doesn’t actually sound half bad. It’d certainly be better than being at the apartment, and there’s no way he’s going back to his family, and motels are cash he doesn’t have, so Tim’s apartment would actually be pretty perfect. Jason feels a little nervousness stir in his stomach, then reprimands himself. He’s not some dewy-eyed middle school kid. He’s a responsible adult who can handle this.</p><p>“You sure?” He asks, making sure Tim is not having any doubts.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Well, okay. Thanks, kid.” Jason says. Tim is too nice for his own good. Tim smiles, pausing to sip at his drink. Steam is still curling up in thin wisps from the mouth of their drinks.</p><p>“It’s no trouble. I have classes in an hour, but I’ll be back by four. Just come on by any time after that and I’ll let you in.” Jason nods. Now that he has a plan, a weight lifts off his chest. It’s not much, but he does feel better now that he knows he can avoid Kori’s makeshift drugs-bust. Also, he’s not displeased at the prospect of staying the night at Tim’s place. He has a sudden image of Tim with scruffy bedhead and barefoot in the kitchen in the morning, and has to look out the window so Tim won’t see his expression.</p><p>Jason stands.</p><p>“Thanks for the food and… everything else. I owe you one.” Jason says. Tim smiles.</p><p>“Glad I could help.”</p><p>A quick wave and then Jason is off to tell Kori. The air is still terribly brisk, the wind just as bitter, but now Jason doesn’t feel quite as cold. He might even go as far as to say he feels a little warm inside.</p><p>Jason Todd is not a nice person and life is not fair, but sometimes Jason thinks maybe the universe isn’t completely against him.</p><p>But he is still Jason and he will never say so.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Tim's</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim has barely returned from classes and his practice time in the music hall when Jason arrives. He’s putting his violin away and settling in with his homework for the night when Jason knocks twice. Tim steels himself against the flutter of nerves that rise in him and jumps up to the door.</p><p>He’s not sure what compelled him to invite Jason to spend the night. It probably had something to do with the same spark that brought them together for lessons and their first meeting. Tim can’t say he regrets it. Jason helps Tim keep that spark alive. It reminds him that there is something else to life.</p><p>Tim smiles genuinely as he opens the door to admit Jason. His leather jacket is zipped up tight, guitar case on one shoulder and duffle bag slung over the other.</p><p>“Hey, kid.” Jason nods at him, sweeping into the living room. Tim locks up behind him and follows Jason in.</p><p>“Hey. So, you’ve been here before, so you know. Bathroom. Kitchen.” Tim points, then leads down a side hall. He’s never used the guest room much before. His mom insisted he get an apartment with one, though, should she need to drop in and visit. So far, her visits have (thankfully) been rare.</p><p>“This is the guest bedroom.” Tim pushes the door open and gestures for Jason to go in. Tim follows the taller man in, flipping on the lights. Jason looks around, appraising the full-size bed and dresser. “You know where the hall bathroom is; you can use that shower.” Tim leans on the door, watching as Jason throws his stuff down on the bed. “Uh, dinner at six, I guess. Make yourself comfortable.” Tim says awkwardly. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself.</p><p>Sure, he’s hung out with Jason, and Jason has been here plenty of times, but they’ve never been in the same place for longer than two or three hours at most before. It’s new territory, having him stay the night. Still, Tim is thankful he could help Jason, given all that’s going on with him.</p><p>So here Jason is. In Tim’s home. It’s weird, but not unwelcome.</p><p>Tim leaves Jason to his own devices, heading back to the kitchen. He shuffles his papers up off the counter, and gets started on food. He makes them a light meal, and dinner passes with relative ease. They don’t talk about much of anything, certainly not about whatever business is going down at Jason’s place right now. Tim can tell it’s on his mind, though.</p><p>Jason never says a word during the meal about Roy, but he is definitely mellower, less talkative and snarky. Tim feels for Jason. Even without words, Tim can feel how much Jason cares about Roy. Despite Jason’s constant trash-talking of the man, his words also hint at an underlying respect. Jason views Roy as his equal. Tim feels a twinge in his chest at the thought, through he’s not sure why.</p><p>He’s worried for Jason; that he’s sure about. Tim watches as he picks around the meal Tim prepared. He knows it’s not the food, just Jason, and that he shouldn’t expect the man to eat with his usual vigor when his best friend nearly died the previous night. Still, he doesn’t like it.</p><p>After the meal Jason announces that he’s going to bed. He had a late night and no sleep, so Tim’s not surprised. Jason goes to shower before he gets in bed, and while he does Tim prepares him a cup of chamomile tea, leaving it steaming on the bedside table. Then he sits back down with his homework. The final draft of his essay is due tomorrow, and he needs to make sure he has it in.</p><p>Jason is out ten minutes later, dressed in night clothes and rubbing his hair with a towel. It’s such a weird and strangely domestic sight that Tim almost misses Jason’s goodnight, which he returns with jumbled words. Then Jason is gone, closed in the guest room, and Tim is back to forcing himself to focus on his work, as if his apartment isn’t one person warmer.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Jason gets up about half an hour after Tim does. Tim is already up and buzzing about, getting ready for the school day. He has eggs keeping warm on the stove and coffee in the pot. Tim is sitting at the counter on his laptop when Jason walks in. He is sleep rumpled, but he looks a lot better than he did the night before.</p><p>“Hey.” Jason says, his voice still a little groggy.</p><p>“Morning.” Tim smiles at him. “Food on the stove, coffee over there,” he gestures, Jason nodding. Then, the man shakes his head and squints at Tim.</p><p>“Man, you look way too cheery for this early in the morning.”</p><p>“You mean nine thirty?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s practically the middle of the god-damned night.” Tim laughs, and Jason moves into the kitchen to help himself to food.</p><p>Tim watches him slyly over the top of his computer as he rummages around in the cupboards. He’s trying to gauge how Jason is feeling after his ordeal. The man seems fine, humming slightly to himself as he spoons eggs onto a plate and pours himself a cup of coffee. He independently finds the creamer and when he is done sits at the small dining table just off of the kitchen.</p><p>“I’ve got classes today, and I’m going to practice my violin after, but you’re welcome to stick around until I get back. I’ll bring food in case you’re still here. Leftovers are in the fridge; help yourself to whatever.”</p><p>“Thanks, kid.” Jason says. “I need to make a few calls before I decide what I’m doing. I shouldn’t be in your hair much longer.”</p><p>“You’re not a bother.” Tim says, because so far he isn’t, and it’s actually kind of nice to have another human being to interact with outside of school. He clicks away on his computer as Jason pulls out his cell and steps into the relatively separate space of the living room. Tim can still hear him, though, as Jason says hello. He thinks he hears the name Kori, so he knows who Jason is talking to. There is a mirror on the wall, and Tim scoots over subtly so he can see Jason in the reflection over his shoulder. He’s standing by the sofa, hand in his pocket as he talks.</p><p>“How did it go?” Jason asks, and his face falls as he listens. Tim feels a bit like he is intruding on a private conversation, but he can’t stop watching either. Jason’s expression just gets darker and darker. “That bad, huh? I tried to tell you that boy is trouble.” Jason says, an attempt at a joke that Tim is guessing neither Jason nor the mysterious Kori on the other end appreciated. He listens some more, nodding absently. He begins pacing around the room.</p><p>Suddenly, he freezes in place.</p><p>“You’re doing <em>what</em>?” His tone is much more upset, and expressions flit across his face. Tim sees sadness, anger, a brief flash of panic, but he has to stop when Jason continues his pacing with renewed vigor, turning his back from to Tim.</p><p>“When?” Jason demands. “Seriously, Kori? What about—yeah, I know, but—sorry, you’re right.” He stops, looks down at his feet, clears his throat. “Wow. I’ll, uh, miss you, I guess. You better come visit, okay?” He stops talking again, and Tim is trying to fill in the other half of the conversation. He gets a glimpse of Jason’s face, and his expression is so deeply sad. Suddenly, the sense of intrusion becomes too much, the moment too personal. Tim looks away, turning back to his screen. Whatever the news is—and he has a suspicion he knows—this moment is clearly for Jason alone and not any college students he barely knows.</p><p>Jason wraps up the conversation a minute later. He doesn’t walk back into the kitchen, and Tim doesn’t look, though the rustle of fabric on fabric tells him Jason sat on the sofa. Tim chews his lip for a moment debating whether or not he should go over to Jason. After a minute more of deliberation, Tim saves his work and closes his laptop. Tim makes his way into the living room, kind of regretting that he did when he sees Jason. Jason has dropped his head into his hands, and he is completely still. Tim sits in one of the chairs around the corner of the coffee table from Jason.</p><p>“Jason?” Tim says. The man heaves a big breath, and looks up. His face is surprisingly clear given his posture.</p><p>“Sorry.” He takes a deep breath, rubbing his face. “It’s just—Kori’s leaving.” Tim’s suspicion was right. “She’s going back to the west coast. Her sister lives there, and she’s going back to stay with her for a while.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that.” Tim says.</p><p>“Yeah. I—” another breath, “They’re the closest thing I’ve got to family.” Jason runs a frustrated hand through his hair, deepening the tangles.</p><p>“I understand.” Tim says, because he definitely gets what it’s like to have family leave you. His parents were away more than they were home when he was a kid, always off on expeditions and archeological digs. Tim spent a large part of his childhood with a nanny and wondering where his parents were. So, he gets it.</p><p>Jason laughs huffily. “I don’t know—I don’t know what I’m going to do. First Roy, now Kori. I can’t even afford our apartment anymore. We barely could afford the place with the three of us. Honestly, with Roy in rehab we were probably going to have to move out anyways, but it still sucks to make it official.”</p><p>Tim nods. “Do you have somewhere to go?” Jason just shrugs.</p><p>“I have- well- I have my adopted family. When my parents—” Jason breaks off, clearing his throat. This is obviously hard for him. He swallows and clasps his hands, elbows on his knees. “My parents died, and I was on the streets for a while. Then I was adopted, some guy took pity on me, I guess. But I can’t stand them. He doesn’t approve of my lifestyle, and our dislike is pretty mutual. I wouldn’t go crawling to him if my life depended on it.” Jason’s face twisted as he described his situation, his anger creating an ugly expression on his face. Tim nods dutifully, and Jason carries on. “I’ll probably call up some old friends and see if I can stay with them until I can find a new job and apartment.”</p><p>Tim frowns and nods. An idea begins brewing in his head, and he bites his lip and he turns it over in his head.</p><p>He doesn’t voice it yet, but keeps turning it over in his head. In the meantime, he stands, clasps Jason’s shoulder, and hands him his cup of coffee back.</p><p>“Are you going to be okay?” Tim asks.</p><p>Jason shrugs, then shakes his head. “No, yeah. I’ll be okay. I just need to figure some things out.”</p><p>“Okay. I’ve got to go to my classes, but I’ll be back in a couple hours.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Tim, with one last evaluating look, decides he himself needs some time to think, and gives Jason his space.</p><p>Jason is still in the living room when he heads out for his class, and Tim thinks of him the whole drive to campus. Tim might have a solution. But it would be pretty bold of him to offer. Through his classes, he pays little attention, head filled instead with thoughts about Jason and his situation. By the time they’re over and he returns home, he thinks he has a plan.</p><p>“Hey,” Jason greets when Tim lets himself back in. He’s sitting at the counter now, looking downtrodden but not quite so despaired as before.</p><p>“Stay here with me.” Tim says.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Stay here with me.” Tim repeats more firmly. “You can stay here with me.” Jason’s expression is baffled. “Nobody lives in my spare room. I’m just living here by myself, I have the space, and I don’t care about rent. You won’t have to pay me anything, just cook once in a while and do your own laundry. Throw in guitar lessons maybe twice a week and we’ll call it good.”</p><p>Jason gapes at him, then speaks. “No way. I can’t kid. That’s way too generous.”</p><p>“I’m serious! I don’t mind.”</p><p>“I’d be seriously taking advantage of you. And anyway, what would your parents think?” A flash of anger hits Tim.</p><p>“Who the hell cares? It’s not like they’re paying much attention to me anyways. They probably won’t even notice.” Whoops. That came out a lot angrier than he meant it to, and a lot more like a whiny teenager than a young adult who is perfectly capable of deciding if he wants a roommate. “Even if they do, it doesn’t matter. I’m my own person who gets to make my own decisions. Screw them.” Bold words, Tim will have to see if he can stand by them. But he wants to help Jason, so convincing Jason that it’s fine is more important than it actually being fine right now. “Seriously, it’s okay. I <em>want </em>you to stay.” Jason still doesn’t look convinced, so Tim does his best to sound like a sad and lonely person (it isn’t hard).</p><p>“It’d be nice to have some company around here, anyway.” Tim looks at the floor forlornly, hoping this works. Jason stares at him for a minute more before giving a small nod.</p><p>“Fine.” Jason says with a deep, relieved breath. “I’ll stick around. But only for a little bit until I can get on my feet again.” Tim grins sharply.</p><p>“Excellent.” Jason rolls his eyes at Tim’s quickness to drop his pitiful act.</p><p>“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” he says with a shake of his head.</p><p>“Not a chance. This is going to be the best few weeks of your life.” Tim sits back with ease. He has a roommate! <em>Jason </em>is his roommate! This is going to be awesome—or a complete disaster, Tim isn’t quite sure yet. But, maybe for the first time in his life, he’ll just figure it out when he gets there.</p><p>What a freedom indeed.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Jason moves in the next day. Tim ends up helping him move his stuff. They are able to transport all of Jason’s things between the two of their vehicles, since Jason now has free reign of the car that the band had shared. Tim thinks Jason hates the thing, though, the way he looks at it. Maybe it reminds him too much of his friends. Or maybe Tim is reading into it too much, and Jason just doesn’t like the paint job.</p><p>Either way, Jason decides with Kori and Roy over the phone that they are going to sell it and split the profits. Jason says there’s a motorbike he’s had his eye on for cheap, so he’ll put the money towards that. Once they’re done moving Jason’s stuff, that’ll be pretty much the last time any of the band members will use the car.</p><p>They lug everything into the apartment. There isn’t much, but what is there is heavy. There’s amps, books, and goodness leave Tim feeling sore already, but doesn’t mind. He’s too excited about Jason moving in, however temporary it may be. He knows they haven’t known each other very long, but something about him just makes Tim naturally want to trust him. Maybe it was because he saved Tim in that back alley, or maybe Tim is just a trusting person (he really isn’t) but whatever it is has Tim willing to let the man he’s only known for a month or two live with him.</p><p>His parents would have heart attacks. Then again, the fact that Tim was even associating with someone like Jason would probably give them a heart attack, so there’s not too much to be said about that. Were they going to find out eventually? Yes, but Tim was hoping to push that date as far out as possible. When they do, and they certainly will, Tim hasn’t quite figured out what he’ll do. This is quite unusual for him. Tim is the man with a plan, the guy with a to-the-minute itinerary (color coded), so this whole by-the-seat-of-his-pants thing was throwing him through a loop. Honestly, it was a bit liberating, not thinking about it. Would it come back to bite him in the ass? Probably. He’ll sit down and figure out what exactly to tell his parents later.</p><p>Right now, though, he’s starving, and he’s sure Jason is, too.</p><p>“Want to go grab a bite to eat?” Tim asks as Jason sets the last box down in his room. Jason raises his eyebrows.</p><p>“Do you even have to ask?”</p><p>They get in Tim’s car, and Tim navigates them back to the same restaurant they ate in their first few sessions of lessons. They snag a table and a few plates full of food, settling in to chat amicably, like friends. Tim thinks he loves it.</p><p>“Oh, it’s nice to sit down and relax.” Jason says.</p><p> “You’re telling me.”</p><p> “Thanks for helping me move all my stuff.”</p><p> “Yeah, course. Though, I think my back is going to be sore for the next couple of days. What did you bring, boxes full of bricks?”</p><p>“Yup, just so I can throw them at people who question my building supplies collection.”</p><p>“Ha, <em>ha</em>.” Tim rolls his eyes as he helps himself to a french fry.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s a shame all I got was your scrawny ass to help me out, but I’ll take help where I can get it, I guess.”</p><p>“Scrawny? At least I’m not putting on another ten pounds right now alone.” Tim teases with a meaningful look at Jason just as he takes a large bite of his burger.</p><p>“Ha. You wish you had my stunning good looks.”</p><p>“Please, with face like yours, you probably don’t even have to dress up for Halloween.” Jason makes a mock hurt expression.</p><p>Their playful banter feels nice, feels right. Tim hasn’t had a friend like Jason since, well, <em>ever.</em> It’s delightfully easygoing.</p><p>“Whatever.” Jason sticks his tongue out at Tim, then takes another bite of his burger with an expression that says <em>what’re you going to do about it?</em></p><p>“Anyway, I’m sorry the situation is so unpleasant.” Tim says.</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>“I’m sorry about the band, too.” Tim says. Jason exhales, playing with the straw in his drink, swirling the ice around.</p><p>“Honestly? It wasn’t going so great.” Tim leans forwards.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Our band. We haven’t been the most popular as of late. We were barely getting gigs, and people were getting less and less interested in our music. We lost a lot of our followers, and the music showed it. We stopped writing new songs, and things were just getting worse and worse.” Jason broke off and put his drink to his lips.</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that.”</p><p>“Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Band’s over, at least for a good while. Would’ve ended either way.”</p><p>“Well, I think this calls for more comfort food. Definitely a milkshake.” Tim says, standing.</p><p>“Sure,” Jason agrees.</p><p>When Tim returns, the conversation takes a lighter turn. Tim thinks about what Jason said.</p><p>It’s selfish, he knows, but through all the terrible things going on in Jason’s life right now, he’s grateful that it’s meant that he gets to spend this time with Jason. He feels lighter and more at home in his apartment than he ever did living by himself.</p><p>He’s not going to <em>say </em>that to Jason, of course. But it’s something.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Fellowship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After lunch, Tim goes back to Gotham University to use one of the practice rooms. He is walking across the campus, head down to avoid the chilling wind. His mind is far away, so he doesn’t notice the girl approaching him until she’s right there.</p><p>“Hey! You’re Tim, right?” She asks, and Tim nods.</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry, do I know you?” Her bright blue eyes are familiar, as if he’d seen her around before but never gotten to know her.</p><p>“I’m Stephanie.” She thrusts out a purple-gloved hand, which Tim shakes.</p><p>“Tim, but I guess you already knew that.” She smiles, flashing a perfect row of teeth at him.</p><p>“Yeah. You see, I’m in your Biology class, and you seem like you’ve kinda got it together there? Anyway, we have the test due the day after tomorrow and I’m totally lost. Then, I saw you walking, and thought, ‘Hey, Tim’s pretty smart, maybe he can help,’ so I came over. What do you say? Could you help me out?” She smiles a lot as she talks, each word exuding an easygoing cheerfulness. Her energy is intense, like a bright light right in Tim’s face.</p><p>“Er…” Tim says, looking at his watch. It is two now. Jason is expecting him back in a couple hours, but Tim wasn’t specific when he said he’d be back. Jason seemed like he was settling into his new routine at Tim’s pretty well for the last week or so, so Tim figured it wouldn’t hurt too much. “Sure, I can do that. I just have to practice my violin for a bit, but I only need an hour or so.” We could meet in the library then?”</p><p>“Great.” She breathes with relief. “I didn’t know what I was going to do! You’re a lifesaver, Tim.”</p><p>“Ah, no problem.”</p><p>“Well, catch you later, then.” She beams. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring snacks to make it well worth your time.” Then she’d gone in a flurry of hair and bright expressions. <em>Whoa, </em>Tim thinks. That girl is a whirlwind.</p><p>He continues on to the music hall, practices, and is at the library precisely an hour and three minutes after he told Stephanie he would be. She isn’t there yet, so Tim grabs a few books he thinks might be helpful and selects a table. Not long after, Stephanie is there, arms full of notebooks and the promised snacks. It looks to mostly be collegiate junk food, but Tim spies an apple amongst the plethora of items, so he grabs that.</p><p>“So, what’s the issue?” Tim begins.</p><p>“Everything. <em>Everything </em>is the issue.” Stephanie laments, collapsing down on the desk.</p><p>“Well, I guess we’ll be here a while.” Tim says, and Stephanie smiles at him. Actually, she pretty much hasn’t stopped smiling in the time that Tim’s known her. She seems like the smiley sort. It was almost scary. Still, her personality is charismatic, and Tim finds himself chuckling at her jokes and returning her smiles. They plow through the notes, Tim pointing out tidbits of information she might have missed and explaining things when she is confused. She’s pretty bright; she absorbs what Tim says with ease. The problem is her focus, and too often he has to steer them off of a tangent and back to biology.</p><p>Nevertheless, Tim gets so focused on the work they are doing that he barely notices time passing by. A handful of snack wrappers, fourteen pages of highlighted notes, and one unit of biology later, about two hours have passed. Tim is surprised to see that it is getting close to dinner; he should probably get back to check on Jason.</p><p>“Alright, Stephanie, you’re as prepared as I can make you. Study that stuff and you should be just fine.”</p><p>“Just call me Steph, and thanks. You’re amazing! I don’t get how you just understand all this stuff. And they say you do all that crazy violin stuff?” Tim cringes a little. “What are you, some kind of wunderkind? A Boy Wonder?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, I really owe you.” She pauses, then, biting her lip, grabs her pen and Tim’s hand.</p><p>“Here.” She says as she scribbles on Tim’s palm. “This is my phone number. Call me or text me and we can hang out. You’re a pretty cool guy, and I have some people that I just <em>know </em>you would get along with.”</p><p>“Oh. Sure.” Tim says, surprised by her forwardness.</p><p>“In <em>fact</em>, there’s a party tonight at a friend of mine’s place, and me and a bunch of people I know are going to be there. You should come; I could introduce you around to some of my friends.” She is getting excited, eyes glittering brightly. “What you say? It’ll be great!”</p><p>“I don’t know…” Tim says. He thinks of Jason waiting for him back at the apartment.</p><p>“Come on, it’ll be <em>so </em>fun! You can meet all these people and kick back. You don’t have to stay for long; just show up for a bit and let me drag you around for a little while.” She is leaning closer and closer, excitement coming off her in intoxicating waves. Tim tries to splutter a no, but she won’t have it.</p><p>“Oh, please, Tim? I think you’ll really enjoy it. You’ll probably regret it if you don’t go.” She is making these terrible pleading eyes at him, and is practically hanging onto his arm. He’s kind of afraid of what she’ll so if he says no, so he meekly agrees to attend.</p><p> “Oh, yay! I’m so excited! I can’t wait! Here’s the address.” She jots it down and rips the paper out of her notebook, passing it off to Tim. “Thank you so much for your help, Tim; you’re a lifesaver for sure! I might actually pass this test now.” She closes the remaining (very small) distance between them, enveloping Tim into a hug. Tim makes an undignified squeaking sound that he hopes she didn’t hear, but given their proximity she probably did.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. See you later, then, Stephanie.”</p><p>“It’s Steph, and yeah, later!” She releases him, gives a quick wave, and is sweeping out of the library before Tim has a chance to take a deep breath and straighten himself out. Man, being around that girl is like being in a hurricane—he feels like he’s been spun in three dozen circles. Now, he’s somehow managed to get himself invited to a party? How had that happened, and more importantly, how did Stephanie talk him into accepting?</p><p>Tim shakes his head as if to clear the post-Stephanie haze. Well, he did accept, so now he has to <em>go</em>, which means he has to tell Jason. A sudden pang of regret for abandoning Jason hits him, but he brushes it off. He’s allowed to have a social life. Anyway, it’s not like Jason will miss him if he’s gone. After all, why would he—or anyone—miss Tim?</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Jason accepts Tim’s plans just as he thought he would—without much care. Tim prepares them dinner and tells Jason he isn’t sure what time he’ll be back. Jason nods and asks Tim if he can go to the store to buy beer. Tim thanks him for asking and tells him it’s fine as long as he doesn’t wind up naked on the sofa or anything weird like that. Jason assures him he won’t.</p><p>Then Tim is off to find the address Stephanie wrote down for him. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about the party. Parties meant lots of people, and lots of people meant lots of talking, something Tim would like to avoid at all costs. Really, he doesn’t know why he agreed to come in the first place, but Stephanie had him dazzled with her bright smiles and blue eyes, so he barely registered he’d said yes until it was too late to take it back.</p><p>This might be a complete disaster. Or it might be fun. It’s still a tossup.</p><p>The directions are easy enough to follow, though Tim is pretty sure he would’ve found the place anyways, there’s enough cars parked around it, and music pumps out of the house in heavy beats. Yeah, this is probably the place. Tim ends up having to park a block and a half away. He hesitates at the door.</p><p>Well, time to enter the fray. The door is unlocked, opening to reveal a nice home, people milling about, chatting, bass heavy in the air. Tim slips by them, looking for Stephanie’s head of blonde hair. He finds her in the living room, surrounded by several other people, ever-present smile lightening her face. Tim hesitantly slides up, and she notices him instantly.</p><p>“Tim!” She cries, grabbing his arm and pulling him fully into the circle. “You came! I thought you were going to change your mind.” She beams at him, and he can’t help but smile back.</p><p>“Yeah, hi.” He says a little awkwardly.</p><p>“These are some friends of mine.” She gestures at the people around them. “Conner, Bart, Cassie, this Tim.” Tim recognizes some of them. Conner was the guy who came up to him a while back, and the girl Stephanie identified as Cassie was the blonde accompanying him. Tim has never met Bart before, but he has a distinctive face and bright red hair that seem very memorable.</p><p>“Hey, Tim.” Conner grins at him. “Glad you decided to come to one of these things.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, Stephanie insisted I come, and what could I do?” Tim smiles, feeling a little more at ease with this group. He isn’t sure quite why, but he likes them. Conner especially seems friendly.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, we know how Steph can be. You didn’t stand a chance.” Bart says. He talks fast, smirking even as Stephanie punches him on the arm.</p><p>“Nice to see you again, Tim,” Cassie says, brushing her long hair out of her face with a smile. “Okay, one minute get-to-know you! Tell us something about yourself.”</p><p>“Oh, ah, I don’t know.”</p><p>“You play the violin, right? You’re really good, Conner said.” Bart fires off. Conner gives him a look, and a sheepish expression crosses his face.</p><p>“I’m alright.” Tim shrugs. “It’s mostly a lot of work, though.”</p><p>“Neat!” Bart says.</p><p>“And let’s see… my favorite color is red?” Tim feels like he’s floundering a bit.</p><p>“Hey, mine too!” Bart bounces on his heels. “Anyway, like I was telling Steph, I was running by the shop when I saw this <em>lovely </em>lady, you should have seen her, Tim!” Bart jumps right back into whatever story he was telling, and that’s it. Tim has been accepted into their fold. He is delighted it went so easily. He showed up, and bam, he has four new friends. It’s a novel feeling. His phone buzzes once fifteen minutes after he has arrived, then again. He checks it, and seeing that it is his mother, turns it off. He’ll call her after the party. He’s not planning on sticking around <em>that </em>long, so no worries.</p><p>He learns more about them. Cassie turns out to be majoring in archeology, which surprises Tim. He wouldn’t have guessed it meeting her. Tim has read a bit on the subject since his parents are archeologists themselves, and when Tim brings it up, they have a discussion on the latest in archeology. She’s really funny, and sharp-witted.</p><p>Conner is on the Gotham Knights football team. Evidently he’s pretty good, though Tim doesn’t care much for football. Conner shares the same English class and History class. He is easygoing, and Tim quickly makes a connection with him. He and Conner—or Kon, as he prefers to be called—talk for a while about everything—life, sports, music, Kon tells him about girls—until Stephanie steals Tim away again to go grab food.</p><p>Tim avoids whatever the punch is (he can smell the strength of the alcohol from a foot away) but he does help himself to meatballs steaming in a pot. He and Steph—as she insists on Tim calling her—stay and chat with Bart, who is lingering by the food table. Steph tells him that Bart has to have the highest metabolism of anyone she’s ever met. Tim can believe it with the rate Bart’s shoveling food into his mouth. It’s practically inhuman.</p><p>Bart runs on the track team. He assures Tim that despite his scrawny appearance you’d never meet a faster kid. Tim is certain he’s never heard anyone <em>talk </em>faster. The hours fly by without Tim even noticing. He hasn’t laughed this much since forever, though time with Jason came a close second. <em>Jason. </em>Tim realizes he’s been gone for ages. Hell, he doesn’t even know what time it is. It’s been dark out for quite a few hours, and when he asks Stephanie for the time and she tells him it’s almost midnight, he decides it’s time to go home.</p><p>He says goodbye to the Conner, Cassie, Bart, and Stephanie, who all insist that he hang out with them later. Tim thinks he will. They are nice, and he’d like to spend more time with them (and Stephanie might drag him out anyway if declines) so he says goodbye and heads out.</p><p>The car drive home is quiet compared to the overwhelming noise of the party. He really did enjoy it, though. When Tim lets himself in, Jason is still up.</p><p>“You’re back late.” Jason says, sprawled on the sofa. He mutes the television as Tim comes in. Tim peeks and sees some action flick on. Unsurprising.</p><p>“Yeah, lost track of time.” Tim sets the keys on the counter, taking off his winter jacket and hanging it on a coat hook in the hall.</p><p>“By the way, someone was calling your house phone like crazy. Pretty sure they called at least twenty times. I would’ve answered it, but they probably didn’t want to talk to me. Got any crazy ex-girlfriends I should know about?”</p><p>“Ha. No.” Tim says. Who could’ve been calling? He makes his way over to the house phone on the counter and checks it. Indeed, there are 17 missed calls. Who…? Then, as Tim checks the caller ID, he suddenly remembers his mom’s calls that he ignored at the party, and his heart drops into his stomach. Oh no.</p><p>He whips his phone out, turning it back on. It pings several times, informing him that his mother called over a dozen times. Crazy ex? No. Crazy? Maybe a little bit. Likely to murder him? Tim is certain she will be when he calls back. No use putting it off.</p><p>“Hold on. This isn’t going to go well.” Tim says to Jason as he dials his mom’s number and hits the call button. Jason raises his eyebrows, but Tim shakes his head. His mom picks up after only a single ring.</p><p>“Timothy Jackson Drake, where have you been?” She is definitely angry, her voice cold and terse.</p><p>“Mom. Hey.” Tim says weakly. Jason raises his eyebrows higher, his expression pitiful.</p><p>“Well? Why weren’t you answering your phone? I called both your cell and the landline two dozen times.”</p><p>“Yeah, I see that.” Tim says dryly.</p><p>“<em>Timothy.</em>”</p><p>“Sorry. I was out with some friends.”</p><p>“Out? With friends?” She says it in disbelief.</p><p>“Yes, out with friends. I do have those.” Tim is being unnecessarily snappy and he knows it, but he’s tired and dealing with his mother always puts him in a bad mood. He probably would have ended up here anyway, but that doesn’t mean he’s helping his situation any by being rude.</p><p>“Timothy, I do <em>not </em>like that tone of voice you’re using with me.” She reprimands. Tim sighs.</p><p>“Why were you calling, Mom?”</p><p>“Hold on just a minute; I’m not done. In the past couple weeks, you’ve been developing an <em>attitude, </em>and I don’t like it one bit. You need to lose the tone, young man, or there will be consequences.” There it was. The <em>I am your mother </em>voice that never seemed to go away, the voice Tim <em>hated </em>because it made him feel like a child again, being told off for having broken an expensive vase and tracked mud on in hall.</p><p>“Sorry. But I <em>am </em>at college. You can’t expect me not to make friends.”</p><p>“No, I don’t expect that, but what I do expect is that you answer your <em>phone </em>when I’ve called at least a dozen times. I was worried about you, Timothy.”</p><p>“Sorry. It won’t happen again.” Tim says, apology a little too shortly clipped to sound sincere. He was trying hard to ignore the fact that Jason was watching him with interest. He didn’t much like the idea that Jason was watching and listening. It was embarrassing, the way his mom treated him. He was pretty sure none of the other kids in his year had parents like his that dictated everything up to the color socks he wore.</p><p>“It most certainly won’t.” She said sharply. “If this new <em>behavior</em>,” she says it like it’s a disease or she’s talking about an ugly wart that’s popped up on her otherwise flawless skin, “comes up again we will have to discuss what needs to change to fix that.” Here we go again. Tim is sure his face is displaying all of the emotions he can’t outright voice because Jason is looking at him with curious concern.</p><p>“It was just one night out, Mom. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. I’m sorry I missed your calls, but I came home and I see them now, and we’re talking now, so it’s not like it’s the end of the world, okay?”</p><p>“Timothy, I think you’re forgetting the fact that I am your <em>mother</em>. It is not acceptable for you to speak to me in that tone of voice.” Forget? How could he ever forget with his mother breathing down his neck at all hours of the day? He was lucky she lived so far out into the land surrounding Gotham, or he might have to deal with her more than he was capable of tolerating.</p><p>“Sorry.” He said it as sincerely as he could manage. Clearly she wasn’t going to get off his case any other way, so.</p><p>“Thank you. Now, about why I was calling. There’s an extremely prestigious opportunity that you need to begin preparing for. Your father and I already discussed it, and we agreed that it would be in your best interests to pursue it. You’ll need to begin preparing for it immediately, as the auditions are coming up very, very soon. I’ve already sent the audition material your way for you to look over. If you do this right, Timothy, this could mean <em>huge </em>things for your career. It’s the big break we’ve been waiting for.” Tim has several immediate thoughts. First of all, where was he for this discussion? You would think they might want to consult Tim just a little bit on any big decisions that revolved around his life. But, he guesses not.</p><p>“Hold on, Mom. What is this opportunity you’re talking about? What would I even be auditioning <em>for</em>?”</p><p>“It’s fantastic, Timothy, it’s absolutely <em>perfect </em>for you. A prestigious organization is offering a few scholarships to the elite young musicians across the U.S. It’s very hard to get into, and only the best are admitted, but knowing you, Timothy, you could absolutely do it despite the tight time-frame. The few people that are chosen are then admitted into an extremely advanced and expert-guided schooling experience for year, where they travel all over and work closely with some of the most renowned experts in their instrument of choice. Then, at the end of the year, the participants are looked at by the biggest performing ensembles across America and offered positions. It’ll work absolute <em>wonders </em>for you, Timothy.”</p><p>Tim is stunned. A year out of Gotham, traveling all over? A level of completion that high? Being offered a job right after the experience was over? It sounded… intense. Tim feels very unsure at the prospect of the whole thing. It just seems so… big. And his mom hadn’t even thought to run this by him? He knew she was controlling and had a tendency to be insensitive to his thoughts, but <em>wow</em>. This took it to a whole new level. He’s angry.</p><p>“Are you serious?” Clearly, she misses Tim’s tone entirely. Why would her little Timmy be anything but ecstatic about this opportunity she has laid out for him on a silver platter? Isn’t it everything they’ve ever wanted?</p><p>“Absolutely. As I said, I’ve already taken the liberty of sending materials to you. They have a list of the types of pieces they want you to prepare, and I selected a few. They’re pretty challenging, so if you’re going to learn them in the time allotted, you’ll need to dedicate serious time to it—”</p><p>“Just hold on a moment!” Tim interrupts, which he is sure his mother will get on his case for, but he just needs her to stop talking for a moment and actually think about what she’s saying. “Just… hold on. Did you even think about consulting me on this?” His voice is indignant, and he waves his hand that is not holding the phone about.</p><p>“I’m sorry that I didn’t, but I think you’ll like the pieces we picked out; they’re just the right combination of interesting rhythms and—”</p><p>“Not that!” Tim says, aghast that his mother doesn’t even understand what he’s talking about. “Not the music! This whole thing. Did you even think about asking me if this was what <em>I </em>wanted?” He’s raising his voice, and has started pacing. He <em>knows </em>Jason is watching with his full attention now, but he can’t break his own attention away from the fact that apparently his mother thought she could just sign away his future for him and he wouldn’t care.</p><p>“What you wanted? Of course this is what you want.” There, that absolute certainty that she knew better than Tim what he wanted for himself is what drives him crazy more than anything else. “Timothy, don’t you see that this is the chance of a lifetime? This is your best window to make it bigtime, to fulfill everything you’ve worked so hard for all these years. Don’t you want what’s best?”</p><p>“I do want what’s best, but have you considered that maybe <em>I </em>should get some say in that? I’m not a minor anymore. You can’t just make decisions for me.”</p><p>“I am your mother. Helping shape your future is in my job description.” Yes, well, that would be fine if she was just <em>helping </em>but her actions bordered more on obsessively controlling.</p><p>“I don’t know about this, Mom. Can I think about it?”</p><p>“There’s no time to think. This opportunity will demand all your attention now. There’ll be no time to waste with silly things, like <em>parties. </em>You’ll need to get on it right away.”</p><p>“I don’t know, Mom.” Tim says, underwhelmed with his options.</p><p>“There isn’t anything to not know about, Timothy. This isn’t the time for uncertainty. Now is the time for the excellent violinist I raised to step up to the challenge like I know you can.”</p><p>“So I don’t have a choice?”</p><p>“Why would this need to be a choice? This is exactly the kind of thing you’ve been training for your whole life, and it would be foolish not to jump on that while you can.”</p><p>“It just seems so sudden.” Tim says, trying to figure out how to phrase his thoughts in a way that his mother would understand. How does he tell her, “like hell I’m doing this!” in a way that she’ll respect?</p><p>“I know it does, honey, but trust me when I tell you this will be amazing.” Sure, amazing, except for the part where Tim leaves everything he’s ever known behind in a few weeks, travels all around for a year, and jumps right into work somewhere he’s likely never even been immediately after? What happened to him going out to experience life? He doesn’t like this, not all.</p><p>“Now, about the music,” she carries on.</p><p>“Wait, Mom. <em>Mom</em>.” Tim says, trying to pull her back. “Mom, I don’t know if I want to do this.” That shuts her up real quick. There is silence on the other end, and Tim counts the seconds.</p><p>“What do you mean, you don’t want to do this?” Her voice is quiet, dangerous. She’s giving him a chance to back up from those words, to clarify that he was not, in fact, saying that he didn’t want the opportunity she had picked out for him.</p><p>“I mean, I’m not sure if I want to give up college life. Things are good here. I have friends, I like my classes, I like the university. I’m not in a hurry to throw away my college years. Everything has always been so go-go-go, what with me graduating high school a year early, taking summer classes and stuff. Things are fast-paced enough; I don’t need to push them any faster.” Jason is still in the corner of his vision, but Tim doesn’t spare an iota of focus away from his mom, what with her threatening this new path.</p><p>“Timothy, I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what you’re being offered. This could be the defining choice of your career. It would be silly of you to pass that by.” Her voice takes on that tone where she sounds as if she’s trying to explain something to a five year old. Tim doesn’t appreciate it.</p><p>“I understand that it’s a big deal, but I really am happy right now, and I’m not in a hurry to uproot my life again.”</p><p>“I understand that you might be nervous. I know auditions seem like a big deal, but I’m certain that if you put in the proper dedication, you’ll have no issues getting in.”</p><p>“That’s not the point. I don’t know if I want to leave everything behind here.” He has a nice thing going; he’s making new friends, he’s taking lessons from/living with Jason. Now she wants him to pack up and give it all up?</p><p>“Timothy, don’t be ridiculous. This will be amazing. Don’t you want to be successful?”</p><p>“Yeah, but my friends—”</p><p>“Friends aren’t as important as your career. Or have you forgotten that?” She sighs. “I was afraid this was going to happen when you went off to college. You must remember where your responsibilities are. You have a responsibility to your future, to your career, to your music.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“Don’t you care about all that? Don’t you care about the investment you’ve made? Are you really willing to let that go to waste?”</p><p>“What? No! No. Mom, just because I don’t do this thing doesn’t mean it’s the end of my career!”</p><p>“No, but it would be crazy to pass up a chance like this when you <em>can </em>do this.”</p><p>“But what if I don’t want to?”</p><p>“Timothy, don’t be unreasonable.”</p><p>“Unreasonable?” He cannot help himself. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. Have you even considered that I might not want this?”</p><p>“I won’t hear any more of this. You are being childish. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” Tim could’ve screamed with frustration, or ripped his own hair out, or both. Yeah, both sounds like a good option. “Listen, this is a chance you cannot afford to pass up. If you are going to disregard the things I have given you, you better be prepared to fully commit to that. I supply you with your apartment, your vehicle, and your music opportunities. If you’re going to be ungrateful for one of those things, then don’t expect to continue receiving any.”</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” Tim can scarcely contain his disbelief and growing rage.</p><p>“I assure you I am not. Now, materials. They have been sent to you. I expect a progress report tomorrow evening once you’ve looked through all the music and started on the first piece.”</p><p>“You can’t just— You can’t—” Tim can barely form a coherent thought, he’s so outraged.</p><p>“Timothy, honey, stop worrying. You’ll love this. Remember, read the music, start working over the first piece. Check in tomorrow. Or we’ll have to talk about your future. Do we understand each other?” Tim opens and closes his mouth several times, before finally responding.</p><p>“Fine.” He breathes out, clenching and unclenching his fist.</p><p>“Good boy. Call me tomorrow.” Then she hangs up, probably all smug and satisfied that she won. She always wins. Tim growls, whipping around to chuck his phone at the wall. He nearly hits Jason, who he since forgot was there. Jason barely dodges, looking with wide eyes at Tim. Yeah, he hasn’t been like this since forever.</p><p>Tim doesn’t say anything, only storms over to the sofa which he angrily drops onto.</p><p>“Argh!” He snarls, grabbing a pillow and throwing it across the room. Jason regards him with mildly surprised interest.</p><p>“Sounds like <em>that </em>didn’t go well.” Jason says, arching his eyebrows. Tim shakes his head and grabs another pillow, hurling it away as well. Its muffled thump against the wall is not nearly as satisfying as he would have hoped. Tim is aware he is clenching his jaw hard, but can’t bring himself to stop. Jason sits on the sofa next to him, farther than usual. He’s giving Tim a wary distance, it would seem.</p><p>“I can’t believe her.” Tim manages around clenched teeth. He is still tensing and relaxing his fists in an attempt to release some of his frustration. He shakes his head, feeling overwhelmed and underpowered.</p><p>“What’s going on?” Jason asks, looking as if he finds the whole thing amusing but is trying not to show how funny he thinks it is. Tim doesn’t appreciate it.</p><p>“My mom. She’s… she’s, well, she’s something. She is <em>so </em>insistent that I follow her plans for my life to the letter. It’s suffocating at the best of times, and now, now I can barely deal with this.” Tim stops, his hands shaking a bit with anger.</p><p>“Jeez, kid, you sure look hella pissed, that’s for sure.” Jason says.</p><p>Tim continues. “Now, she’s found this big-name organization that offers a scholarship of sorts to a few people where they get to train for a year under some of the top experts in their musical fields. It’s a huge opportunity, and afterwards the participants are examined by several groups for job offerings. It’s about as prestigious as prestigious goes. The auditions are in a few weeks, and I’d have to spend those next few weeks pretty much doing nothing but preparing, then after I’d be <em>whisked </em>away into my new life of musical training.” Tim’s voice is bitter and sarcastic.</p><p>“Wow.” Jason says. “It sounds demanding.”</p><p>“Yeah. It would be. <em>Will </em>be. My mom has decided I’m doing this, for sure, without consulting me. It’s a great chance, but what about my university life? My friends?” You? Tim doesn’t add, because that would be... well, he doesn’t add it.</p><p>“I don’t want to leave Gotham, give up the only years in college I’ll have,” Tim finishes. Jason nods, any hints of amusement replaced by a pensive look.</p><p>“I get that. I already told you, I never made it through college. It wasn’t the place for me, but it was still cool. That’s where I met Roy and Kori.” Jason sighs. “Man, kid, I don’t know what to tell you. This does sound like a neat break, but you’ve gotta do right by yourself, too.” Tim gives Jason a helpless look, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that face. I’m just sayin’.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Tim sighs. “It’s just—she didn’t even hear me when I was talking. It was all how great this is and ‘you’ll love it’ like she didn’t even realize I was trying to tell her I wasn’t interested. Great mothering skills she’s got.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, at least you’ve got a mom.” Jason says shortly. Tim looks up in mild surprise.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”</p><p>“Save it, kid. It happened a long time ago. If I was gonna cry about it, I’d have done it a long time ago.” The unpleasant expression lingers on Jason’s face nevertheless, and Tim tries to change gears.</p><p>“I just don’t think I’m ready for this. Sure I’m good, but I’m not as good as she thinks I am. Plus, I don’t know if I’m ready to…” Tim trails off, feeling a little embarrassed. Jason motions impatiently for him to go on, so he does. “Ready to go out into the world. I’m still getting this college thing under my belt. I just don’t know if I can do this. Hell, I don’t even know if I <em>want </em>to do this.” Jason nods, then stands.</p><p>“You don’t have to have a drink, but I’m sure as hell going to.” He announces as he walks into the kitchen. He keeps talking to Tim as he goes, though. “I’m going to have to call bull on you, kid.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You heard me. I don’t care what you think. You’re a damn good musician, and if you want to get into that program you could. No doubts.”</p><p>“You’ve never even heard me play!” Tim protests.</p><p>“Don’t need to. I’ve seen your natural skills with the guitar. You’ve got talent, anyone with ears could see that. Whoever’s judging would be stupid not to see that.” Jason comes back in with a beer, lid already cracked open. Tim is momentarily stunned by Jason’s words. In all the time he’s known the man—admittedly not <em>that </em>long—he’s never heard Jason say anything resembling a comment that nice. Jason must realize it too, because he is quick to add, “And don’t start getting a big head about it. You still could be outplayed on the guitar by a preschooler, but you’re getting there.” Tim actually smiles at that, a bit of the tight resentment lessening its hold on him.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“Don’t mention it. No, really, don’t.” Jason says, making a face at Tim. Tim can’t help but chuckle a bit. Thank goodness for Jason.</p><p>“I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”</p><p>“Can’t answer that for you.”</p><p>“No, I know.” Tim says, gently pounding his palms on his forehead. “I have to figure this out on my own.” Tim looks around for another pillow, but there are none. “I can’t get away. She controls too much. I can’t win.” His voice takes on a defeated tone. “I can’t. She always gets what she wants.” Jason looks a little angry.</p><p>“You don’t <em>have </em>to do what she says, you know.” Tim shakes his head at his words, but Jason presses on. “Screw her. You don’t have to be your parent’s perfect little kid if you don’t want to.” Tim looks away. Jason doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand how deep his mother’s influence reaches, nor does he understand the depth of the issue Tim was dealing with. After his argument with his mom, he no longer has the energy to try and deal with Jason, for all his good intentions.</p><p>“I’m going to go to bed.” Tim stands. “Good night.” Jason sighs, looking like he wants to say more. He doesn’t.</p><p>“See you in the morning, kid.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Practice, Practice, Practice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason awakens the next morning to the sound of music drifting through the space. He blearily sits up in bed, covers falling of his bare chest, making him shiver. Jason looks over at the blinking red alarm clock on the table next to him and groans. It’s only seven thirty. Sure, Tim usually gets up this early, but usually he’s <em>quiet. </em>He’s about to go give Tim a piece of his mind regarding the appropriate time to begin playing music when it stops. There is a pause, and it resumes, and only then does Jason realize it’s <em>Tim </em>playing.</p><p>He is momentarily floored. The kid is so good, he can barely tell that he’s not listening to a record. The notes are clear and ring pleasantly in the halls. The music grows louder, then drops off abruptly in volume. Jason marvels silently at the fast pace that notes fly from the other room. He’s trying to picture what Tim’s fingers look like moving that fast when he remembers that he doesn’t have to try to imagine and can in fact just go out of the room to watch. He swings out of bed, throwing on a T-shirt from one of the half-filled drawers and combs his fingers through his hair.</p><p>He creeps out into the hall, the music louder as he approaches the living room. Tim is standing, music stand set up in front of him, his violin tucked between shoulder and chin. Jason hovers soundlessly in the mouth of the hall as Tim continues playing. He can’t help but be transfixed by the smooth grace with which Tim moved the bow, his arm bending and straightening in fluid motions. His fingers flitter along the neck of the violin, wrist trembling in controlled vibrato when Tim reaches a longer note. Jason would’ve been content to watch him a bit longer, but Tim senses his presence and stops.</p><p>“Morning, Jason.” Tim says as he turns to greet him. Jason is not surprised to see that Tim looks exhausted. He’s unsure how long Tim slept last night, but it probably wasn’t enough. Not that he cared, if Tim wanted to work himself to the death, then so be it.</p><p>“Hey. You look like crap.” Tim rolls his eyes with a little less than his usual grace, and Jason can already tell that today is going to be a bad day. He turns away from Jason, picking his violin back up. He resumes his music, and Jason is slightly bemused by his frosty behavior. Tim is obviously tense. Jason shrugs. Not his problem. The kid can do what he wants to do. Jason is going to get himself some food, and that’s the majority of what he cares about right now.</p><p>He is therefore surprised and a little miffed when he comes into the kitchen to see that nothing had stirred since last night. Dishes were still in the same place, counter was still relatively clean, and most annoyingly of all, the coffee pot was empty. Tim hadn’t made coffee? Jason’s pretty sure that coffee is 95 percent of Tim’s diet. This is a little odd.</p><p>“You didn’t start the coffee?” Jason calls. Tim’s music stops.</p><p>“Obviously not.” He calls back, annoyance making the end of his sentence sharp. Right. Reminder to self: don’t talk to Tim when he’s stressed. He becomes a jerk.</p><p>Jason starts the coffee himself, preparing the blend and setting the machine to work. He opens the fridge just as his stomach is growling. There was nothing but leftovers there. Jason grabs a Tupperware container with dinner from two nights ago in it. It’d have to do, since Tim hadn’t prepared anything. Sure, Jason can make something himself, but if anyone thought Jason Todd cooking of his own free will in the mornings was a possibility, they obviously didn’t know him. So, leftovers it is.</p><p>He is thinking about Tim as he eats. It is odd that Tim hadn’t done anything in the kitchen in the morning. It’s not that Jason <em>expects </em>Tim to cook for them. He’s an adult, he can take care of himself. It’s just that usually that was Tim’s first order of business each day—a job that was often coupled with teasing Jason for his morning state. It is weird to see Tim skip that stage altogether. It’s just <em>off</em>.</p><p>Not that Jason has been paying that much attention. If his brain picks up on Tim’s habits, how is he to blame? He certainly wasn’t giving it that much thought. Besides, Jason has his own problems he needs to think about.</p><p>He’s been scanning the newspapers he picks up from the supermarket every now and then looking for job adverts, and the variety has been somewhat depressing. There isn’t a whole lot of work being offered to college-dropout kids with questionable backgrounds and only slightly spotless criminal records, not to mention Gotham has never been the promised land of job opportunities. Jason is left with a limited amount of options, so he’s trying not to be picky. Whatever kind of job he can get, it’ll probably be better than going back to live on the streets.</p><p>He’s identified a position at a mechanic shop not too far from here that he’s debating applying for. The pay could be better, and the benefits are shabby, but what did he expect? He’s hardly prime-job material, unlike Tim, who apparently is entering a ring where he will be snatched up by the highest bidder in the music industry at the earliest possible date. Jason does not like the image.</p><p>Jason sits at the table as his leftovers warm in the microwave and picks up the newspaper he’s gotten halfway through last night. He flips through the adverts, where he’s underlined a few other jobs in case the mechanic thing doesn’t work out. Tim’s music continues to fill the space. When the microwave beeps at Jason, he spoons himself a portion, then pauses. He sets the bowl down and goes back into the living room.</p><p>“Do you want food? I made leftovers.” Tim stops playing but doesn’t drop his violin.</p><p>“No, thank you. I’ll eat later.” His voice is slightly terse, and it rubs Jason the wrong way.</p><p>“Fine. Suit yourself.” Jason goes back eats his food. He’s trying to remind himself not to be snappy with Tim, but it’s hard when the kid is being so prickly. Also, Jason has never been the most patient of people. Maybe he should get out of the apartment for a while and let Tim do his thing. He’s tense, Jason gets it. He’ll probably be over it by the time Jason gets back. Yeah, that sounds like a plan. He tosses his dish in the sink and grabs the keys to his bike.</p><p>“I’m going out. Be back before dinner.” Jason says. Tim hesitates in his playing, but doesn’t say anything. Obviously anything that isn’t a direct address doesn’t require answer in Tim’s mind. Whatever. Jason doesn’t care. Hopefully Tim will have figured out his issues by the time Jason is back.</p><p>He hasn’t. Seven and a half hours later when Jason gets back, Tim is still practicing. Jason does a bit of a double take when he walks in. It pretty much looks like the kid hasn’t moved from the spot since Jason left hours ago.</p><p>“Jeez, kid.” He says as he walks in. “Did you even eat lunch?” Tim looks over at Jason, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Yes, I ate, <em>mom</em>.” Jason stiffens a bit. After the conversation he overheard last night, he knows that is not a compliment. He brushes off the comment and goes to the sofa.</p><p>“How long have you been working?” Jason asks. Tim doesn’t check the clock.</p><p>“I took a quick break for lunch, but otherwise I’ve been busy all day.”</p><p>“You skipped breakfast?” Jason asks, not because he cares, but because in the couple of weeks he’s been staying with Tim, he’s not sure he’s ever seen Tim skip a meal. The kid was too responsible, almost overbearingly so. It’s weird, Jason thinks for the twelfth time today.</p><p>“Look, Jason, I’ve got a lot to do. Unless you need something, can I get back to work?” Tim says shortly.</p><p>“You’ve been working all day. Take a break. It won’t kill you; in fact, it’ll probably do you some good.” Jason says.</p><p>“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m fine.” Tim turns away, his voice cold. Jason grinds his teeth. He might knock the violin out of Tim’s hands and force feed him if he keeps this stubbornness up. He was sure that Tim would’ve gotten over the cloud hanging over him, but he clearly didn’t.</p><p>“I’m ordering dinner.” Jason says, going to the kitchen. He calls a local pizza place. The pizza takes longer to arrive than it should, and Jason tips poorly. Tim is rubbing him the wrong way, and Jason is getting ticked off. “Come eat, Tim.”</p><p>“Yeah, in a bit.”</p><p>“Food’s here <em>now</em>.” Jason says.</p><p>“Great, I’ll come get some in a bit.” Tim is holding his violin, turning to look Jason in the eye. They stare for a moment, a silent standoff. Jason breaks it.</p><p>“Look, kid, if you’re going to be a jerk all night, I’ll just go find somewhere else to stay.”</p><p>“I’m not being a jerk!” Tim says, affronted.</p><p>“Yeah, you <em>are</em>. Now, are you going to give it a rest and come eat, or are you going to let your mom drive meals away from you, too?” Jason crosses his arm. Tim gapes at him. “I’ll make you a plate.” Jason growls, turning back to the kitchen. He doesn’t stay to watch what Tim does, but the music doesn’t restart, so he thinks he might have won.</p><p>Sure enough, a minute later Tim slips into the room, sans musical instrument. “Sorry.” Tim says. He doesn’t offer anything more, nor does Jason ask for it. He simply nods and slides a plate across the counter to Tim. Tim accepts, and they eat quietly for a few minutes. Jason thinks that pizza has never been so uncomfortably somber.</p><p>“I’m going to put a movie in.” Jason announces. “It will be loud, there will be gore, and there will be absolutely no violin-playing during this movie. If you choose to join me, great. If you choose to sulk in your room, also fine. Got it?” Tim nods sheepishly.</p><p>“I’ll—I’ll join you.” Tim says, and Jason smiles a bit. Tim’s mom always wins, huh? Well clearly she’s never gone head to head with Jason Todd.</p><p>Jason had brought a few DVDs from his old place. They were mostly Roy’s; Jason wasn’t usually a movie-night kind of guy. He rifles through the box containing the DVDs, and grabs one.</p><p>He comes back, popping into the player by the TV. Tim is sitting stiffly on the sofa. You’d think the kid had never had a movie night before. Then again, who knows? His parents hardly sounded like classic movie-watching folks. Jason’s certainly weren’t.</p><p>“What’d you pick?” Tim asks. Jason looks at the case he’d grabbed.</p><p>“I don’t know. I just grabbed one. I’ve never seen it before.”</p><p>“Yeah, but what is it?”</p><p>“Uh, Hereditary? I think?”  Tim shrugs.</p><p>“I’ve never seen it. Isn’t that supposed to be scary?”</p><p>“Why, you chicken?” Jason taunts. Tim rolls his eyes, looking a lot less tense then he had all day.</p><p>“Start the movie.” Tim orders, crossing his arms. He scoots over to make room for Jason on the couch anyway. Jason turns off the lights in the room to make plops down next Tim, grabbing the remote and clicking play.</p><p>Jason has no idea what they’re watching, but he hopes it’s scary.</p><p>.                       .                       .</p><p>Jason should really be more careful what he wishes for. When the movie ends, neither one of them moves. Jason becomes aware that at some during the movie, probably during a jump scare moment—because goodness knows there a few of those—Tim had started clinging to Jason’s arm. Jason was unconsciously leaning into him. They sat there frozen like that for a minute.</p><p>Finally, Jason decides his dignity demands he move first.</p><p>“You can let go now.” He tries to say, but it comes out as more of a croak. Tim comes to his senses, gasping in a breath and releasing his death-grip on Jason’s arm.</p><p>“Sorry.” Tim huffs, flushing a bit. Then he punches Jason’s arm.</p><p>“What was that for?” Jason says indignantly.</p><p>“Why would you pick <em>that </em>movie?”</p><p>“I didn’t know!” Jason returns. “Besides.” He feels it necessary to add. “It wasn’t <em>that </em>scary.”</p><p>“You are such a liar!” Tim cries. “I felt you jump just as much as I did. Come on, admit it, you were scared.”</p><p>“I was not scared.” Jason says adamantly.</p><p>“Liar.” Tim stands up, flicking the lights back on. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep now.”</p><p>“Wuss.” Tim makes a face at Jason, and Jason makes one right back.</p><p>“Well, I’m going to go lie for hours <em>not </em>sleeping in bed.” Tim says, and Jason laughs.</p><p>“Me too, kid. Don’t worry, if you have any nightmares, you can always wake me. I’ll pat your back and remind you that it was just a movie.” Jason is only half teasing, but he says it jokingly anyway. He will <em>not </em>be seen as a softie.</p><p>“Thanks, Jason.” Tim says sarcastically. “You’re so nice.”</p><p>“I try. But if you wet the bed, don’t wake me. I don’t want to deal with that.” Jason wrinkles his nose.</p><p>“Ha, ha, <em>ha</em>.” Tim says. “I’m still not buying your ‘I’m not scared’ act, you know. It’s okay to be scared of things.” Even though Tim was saying so in a lighthearted manner, Jason feels a wave of emotion wash over him in a heavy sweep. He stands and heads into the hall.</p><p>“It’s not movies that scare me, Tim.” He says in a sudden dark tone. “Goodnight.”</p><p>“N-Night.” Tim stumbles, probably surprised by Jason’s sudden transition between teasing and moodiness. That’s fine, the kid can speculate all he wants. It’s not like Tim himself has been the model of stability lately, anyhow. No, Jason thinks, as he brushes his teeth and prepares for bed. It’s not movies that scare him at all. The real world is far more ugly and horrific. Most people just can’t see that as well as Jason. That’s fine. Jason doesn’t care.</p><p>Caring is far scarier than any movie Jason has seen yet.</p><p>//                       //                       //</p><p>It’s relieving to wake up to the smell of food. Whatever is going on with Tim, he’s himself enough again to be cooking meals and being energetic at awful hours. Jason gets up and dresses in time to come out to Tim serving up pancakes on a plate.</p><p>“Jason, perfect timing. I heard you stirring, so I plated food for you. Fixings are in the cupboards.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Jason grabs the offered breakfast and gussies it up to his liking. Tim might be disgusted by his use of whipped cream, but in his opinion, life is too short to eat anything found in the “lite” category. “I hate to say it, but it’s almost nice to see you buzzing up and cooking.” Jason says, thinking of Tim’s over-the-line behavior yesterday. Tim obviously follows the same trail of thought, because his face falls a bit.</p><p>“Yeah. You were right. I was being a jerk yesterday.”</p><p>“Glad we agree on that.” Tim gives Jason one of his exasperated looks that Jason too often finds himself on the receiving end of.</p><p>“And what I’m <em>trying </em>to say is that I’m not going to do that anymore.”</p><p>“Well, that’s a relief.” Jason says.</p><p>“It was inexcusable for me to lash out at you for things that you had no fault in.” Tim continues.</p><p>“True.” Jason nods, and Tim glares at him in full force.</p><p>“Look, will you just let me apologize and stop making snarky comments?” Tim snaps.</p><p>“What can I say? It’s part of my charm.”</p><p>“That’s one word for it. <em>My point </em>is that I’ll do my best not to let it happen again.” Tim grabs his own plate and sits next to Jason at the counter. Jason doesn’t respond, only biting into his food again. They eat in amicable silence.</p><p>“Did you sleep at all last night?” Jason asks. “You were up so early, so I just thought maybe you didn’t sleep at all.”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, I slept.” Tim snips.</p><p>“Sure, sure, whatever you say.”</p><p>“You are really insufferable, you know that?” Jason shrugs and smiles. “I’m heading off to class in just a bit.” Tim says, taking Jason’s empty plate.</p><p>“Have fun.” Jason snorts. Things are better, he thinks.</p><p>//                       //                       //</p><p>Jason decides to go out today and spends a couple hours shopping. He heads to the guitar store and spends a while playing the different instruments and picks up a few new guitar picks and a new song book to work through. He goes back to the apartment, and Tim still isn’t back. Grabbing his instrument from his room, he plays for an hour from the new book he bought.</p><p>It is four in the afternoon when the jingling of keys from outside the front door signals Tim’s return. Jason is just finishing up, so he goes to put his things away. Tim comes in, sets his things down, and gets right to work at his violin after exchanging brief greetings with Jason. He’s jumped right into work, but Jason thinks things might be back to normal. He is relived for it.</p><p> However, when Tim is still practicing the night away, Jason becomes a little worried again. Tim’s not being snappish or acting rude, he’s just—working. Nonstop. When Jason does his best to make them dinner—because it was unclear if Tim would ever stop long enough to think about food—he practically has to pry the instrument from Tim’s fingers. However, Tim relents after that, no snappishness, no rudeness. He’s mellower. Jason has yet to decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.</p><p>This becomes a persisting theme. Tim will get up before Jason, make food like normal, go to classes at Gotham U., come back and jump right into his work. Then the responsibility of dinner falls on Jason, who usually has to prompt Tim several times to join him for food. Tim will resist at first, but after a few minutes of badgering he quietly gives in. Then Tim is quiet, focused, but very polite at all times. Jason is almost alarmed at how easily Tim has put up this polite front. And Jason suspects that it is a front. Tim has done a complete 180 from the spitting mad thing he was a week ago to a meek, obedient thing. Jason doesn’t like it. Where’s the burning fire he witnessed? Jason knows—really, he <em>knows</em>—that kind of emotion doesn’t vanish overnight. So if Tim is acting like that’s the case, Jason isn’t buying it. That’s not a question.</p><p>The real question is, where is Tim putting that anger? If he’s keeping it inside, it won’t be good. Jason knows he’s hardly the model of anger management, but he does know a thing or two about it. He knows enough to understand that keeping it inside never ends well. That doesn’t mean Tim spilling his guts is the only way to go; Jason is not about that himself. But there has to be an outlet. For him, it’s getting hammered in a bar, or beating up punks in back alleys, or a combination of the two. For Tim, well, he’s not seeing it. He almost wishes Tim would talk to him just so he can know what’s going on in his head—if only for the reason that Tim might literally stab him in the back if repressing the anger becomes too much.</p><p>But it’s not like Jason is going to initiate any talk about feelings, so instead he just observes. As one week turns into two and the deadline approaches, Jason watches Tim descend into a flurry of desperate activity. Jason becomes responsible for dinners full time. He has to remind Tim to eat lunch. Part of Jason wonders what Tim would be like if Jason wasn’t there to take care of him, and the other part wonders when Jason became so stupidly sentimental. Because, let’s face it: Jason cares about Tim. It kind of makes him angry, to be honest. He works so hard to maintain neutrality with people, because in his experience, getting attached to people just leads to getting hurt. Kori and Roy were kind of the only exceptions, but somehow Tim had managed to squeeze his name onto that list. When had that happened?</p><p>Maybe it was that one afternoon when Jason spent ten minutes contemplating how concentrated and peaceful Tim looks when he plays violin. Maybe it was one of the meals they spent together at the diner that became <em>their </em>diner at some point. Maybe it was the lesson where Tim finally mastered the chords to the song they were working on, and sang it as he played—Jason learned Tim could actually <em>sing</em>, and <em>whoa</em>. Or maybe it was the very day they first met, when Jason saved Tim from those asshats in the alley. He’s unsure. Whatever it was, Tim suddenly mattered to Jason one day, and Jason was reeling.</p><p>Now, Jason watches over the edge of his magazine as Tim plays one of the pieces he’s been perfecting. His icy eyes are narrowed in focus as his fingers fly across the violin, playing at an impressive tempo. Watching him do this, it’s no wonder to Jason that the kid was so good at the guitar from the get go; in a lot of ways the instruments are similar. Jason’s can’t deny that he’s very impressed with Tim’s musical abilities. He’s been there for a lot of the time Tim has spent working on the pieces for his auditions, and the amount that he’s improved in so little time is truly remarkably. Not that Jason is doing any remarking—the one conversation they had on the night where Tim’s mother first called Tim about The Opportunity (as Jason is coming to call it) was more than enough ego-stroking for Jason’s tastes.</p><p>No remarking. No talking about feelings. Just watching, for now. In his watching, Jason also observes that Tim has been neglecting his phone. He hears it buzz several times a night, and on the times that Tim leaves it on the counter, Jason usually gets away with peeking at who Tim is ignoring. Not his mom, that’s for sure. The woman has taken to checking in nightly, and Tim begrudgingly gives her updates. The begrudging-ness is a win in Jason’s books, but he wishes Tim would just let go of his mother’s advice entirely. If he ever meets the woman, he has a few choice things he’d like to tell her.</p><p>Nevertheless, Tim talks to her and ignores his friends. Jason has never met them, but the names Conner, Stephanie, and Bart are constantly on the receiving end of Tim’s hanging up and rejecting of calls. He feels kind of bad for the kids, whoever they are. Jason also suspects the only reason Tim hasn’t shut him out to the same degree is because Jason is <em>living </em>with Tim and provides a third of his meals. That kind of thing makes it a bit hard to ignore a person.</p><p>So Tim is shutting his friends out, passively giving into his mom’s demands, and letting Jason make dinner for him—a poor life decision by itself, really. And that sums up Tim’s life for the past few weeks. Jason doesn’t know what to do about it. Oh, and the other thing he’s lost about are his newfound feelings about Tim. <em>Feelings</em>. The very word makes him shudder. He’ll figure it out, though. Jason will either fix Tim—who decidedly needs fixing—or he’ll burn himself trying, because at this point, that’s the only option he feels like he has left.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The first time I wrote this, it was before I watched any horror movies, so I just googled scary movies. Now I watch them all the time, but let me tell you Hereditary had me fuuuucked up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Distraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Tim is freaking out. The audition date is exactly two weeks away today. That doesn’t leave him a lot of time. He’s been plugging away at the music his mom picked out diligently, but he’s still afraid it’s not going to be enough. The people who going to be auditioning with him have probably been preparing for months, each day of practice they have over him a grain tipping the scales in their favor. However, he is Timothy Jackson Drake, and he refuses to lose. So, Tim throws himself full throttle into practicing, pushing himself to his limits in order to reach his goal.</p><p>He can do it, he knows he can. Despite his mom having backed him into this corner, Tim refuses to do anything but his best. His mom wants him to compete? Fine, he’ll compete, and he doesn’t care if he’s straining himself too far in the process as long as he gets there.</p><p>Days become a blur of school, practice, and phone calls with his mother. His school work is falling slightly behind, but if Tim is going to do this, it won’t matter in a month, anyway. Nothing matters as much as this. A voice in the back of his head is asking him when he decided this was a matter of life or death, but he brushes it off, just like he brushes off any of his previous resentment towards his mom.</p><p>It’s like there’s this creature living inside Tim Drake, tempted by competition, and roused by the challenge. It takes over, pushing his feelings to the back corner, and locking his social life in a drawer where he won’t let it distract him from the one thing that matters right now: being the best. Tim has to, he <em>has to</em> win. The creature has got him entirely in its palm, and it’s taken control.</p><p>The Tim that was upset and rebellious has taken the backseat, and finds himself struggling to fight past the creature fixated with competition. The only times he finds that part of himself—his true self—at the forefront is when he is with Jason. He can’t pinpoint what it is, but when he’s on the sofa watching movies with Jason or when Jason drags him by the ear to get food, he finds himself a little less focused on the looming deadline and a little more attentive to the world around him. He’s always a little surprised to see that it’s kept spinning.</p><p>He finds out over stir-fry that Jason has applied for a job at a mechanic. A mixture of emotions run through him at the discovery. He is surprised, and a little ashamed that he didn’t know. He usually prides himself on being attentive and picking up on things like that, but clearly he’s been too self-absorbed for the past few weeks to notice. Either way, he’s pleased that Jason is finding a way back onto his feet.  Yet, he can’t help feeling a little sad that Jason is on his way to moving out. He’s grown used to the man’s presence around the place. He can’t quite imagine going back to the way he was: alone, friendless, living in a quiet house without anyone to tear him away from practicing to make sure he’s eating meals.</p><p>That’s another thing Tim has observed: he’s losing weight. He was already pretty skinny to start with, but as of late he’s been noticing more often the way his pants don’t fit him quite as snugly, and his ribs seem a little more pronounced. He isn’t quite sure how to feel about this. For the time being, he’s shoved it to the back of his mind; he has more important things to be thinking about right now. Still, it’s there, in the back of his head. The analyst part of him is asking why; is it because of stress, is it because he’s been missing lunch and occasionally breakfast? Jason usually makes sure he’s eating proper meals, whether it be from simply existing in the mornings so Tim has to make food for the two of them, or by taking the time to prepare food in the evenings. Either way, Tim is grateful.</p><p>Things are getting down to the wire, and Tim can’t deny that he’s frayed. He feels bad, but in order for him to make it through the weeks leading up to auditions, he can’t afford to spend time with his newfound friends. Each time he brushes them off after class he feels a pang of regret for the expression of hurt that will flit across their faces. He hasn’t been answering their texts or calls either. It’s like Tim is trying to disappear off the face of the planet. Which would work, if he didn’t see them in school every day.</p><p>“Tim!” Tim is walking away from the science building when his name is called. He sighs internally. He had been trying to slip away quietly before Stephanie could catch up for a confrontation. He thought he had gotten away with it once he was outside, but here he was. Stephanie was relentless; he should have known better than to even bother. He probably could’ve taken a helicopter off the roof and she still would’ve found a way to catch up to him. <em>When I thought I wanted blondes chasing after me as a kid, this is not what I meant.</em></p><p>“Tim, wait up!” She catches up to him, slowing her pace to match his. She wears a purple cap over her long blonde hair, and he face is flushed pink from hurrying to catch up to him and from the cold. “Timothy Drake, we need to talk.”</p><p>“Sorry, Stephanie, I’m kind of busy.” He says, trying to think of an excuse he can pull. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to her, it’s just that he doesn’t want to talk about what he knows she’s got on her mind.</p><p> “So busy that you can’t even spare me a few minutes?” She purses her lips and raises her eyebrows.</p><p>“Well, I’ve got an assignment that I need to go drop off with Professor Stephens.” He fibs.</p><p>“Oh, the psychology essay?” She says, seemingly understanding. Tim jumps on it.</p><p>“Yeah, I was just going to drop it off now.” He says.</p><p>“Yeah, <em>no</em>.” She says, crossing her arms.</p><p>“What?” Tim asks, her sudden accusatory posture confusing him.</p><p>“We’re in the same section for that class. The essay isn’t due for a week and a half, and despite how <em>studious </em>you are, I know you’re not turning it in that early. So why are you lying to me, Boy Wonder?” Tim winces. She got him hook, line, and sinker. Maybe if he hadn’t been so focused on the work he has to do later tonight he might’ve caught that. But, he didn’t, and now Stephanie was tapping her foot impatiently in front of him.</p><p>“I, er—” Tim stutters, biting his lip.</p><p>“You’ve been weird for the past two weeks, ignoring all my calls, dashing out of class to avoid me, and not telling anyone what’s going on. So I need to know: is it me? If it’s me, then I’ll get the hell out your life and leave you alone.” She points a finger threateningly at him as she talks, and Tim takes an instinctive step back, shaking his head with wide eyes.</p><p>“No, Stephanie, it’s not you at all!”</p><p>“Steph.” She automatically corrects.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just—things have been really crazy lately.” He says.</p><p>“That sounds like a load of bullshit to me.” She accuses.</p><p>“No, really! I know how it sounds, but it has been.”</p><p>“Fine. I believe you. But you owe me an explanation.”</p><p>“Okay. Sorry.” Tim concedes.</p><p>“Come on. I’ll go buy us bagels from the student union, and you can tell me what’s been going on with you.” She links arms with him, pulling him towards the bustling union. A few minutes later they are seated in two comfy chairs, a bright white table between them. Steph hands him his food, and tears right into hers.</p><p>“So, what’s the scoop?” She asks, leaning close in as if in anticipation of good gossip.</p><p>“Well. It’s a bit of a story.” Tim says hesitantly.</p><p>“I’m all ears.”</p><p>So Tim tells her. He explains his mother’s demands, the fast-approaching deadline, the high stakes of the auditions. He expresses his doubts about whether he even wants to do it and his feelings of confliction over starting his job sooner than he anticipated. Stephanie listens the whole time, nodding faithfully when appropriate.</p><p>Tim omits the information about Jason. For some reason he doesn’t feel quite comfortable sharing that part of his life with her, as if it’s a secret that no one else can know. And if Tim hesitates a moment too long or there are odd holes in his story where Jason fills the space, she doesn’t comment.</p><p>“So that’s it. That’s the thing.”</p><p>“Wow.” She says, leaning back into her chair. “That’s quite the situation you’ve got on your hands.” Stephanie brushes her hands free of any crumbs, bagel finished half-way through Tim’s tale. Tim himself has barely started his, since he was talking the whole time.</p><p>“You’re telling me.”</p><p>“You know what I think?”</p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p>“I think you need to get your mind off things for a while.”</p><p>“<em>Stephanie.</em>” He groans, already formulating his protests.</p><p>“Really. From it sounds like, you’ve been a machine, going non-stop. When do you rest? When do you have fun? Be social?” Tim shrugs, since he doesn’t have an answer that doesn’t spell out Jason. “Exactly. You need to take a break. Taking one evening won’t kill you, Tim.”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Tim says, not really wanting to argue with her.</p><p>“Tell you what: the gang and I are going out for pizza this Saturday. Why don’t you come with us, just for a couple of hours? It’ll be good for you. Besides, everyone else wants to see you. You’ve been tricky to track down.” She tells him. Tim bites his lip, looking away.</p><p>“Come on. Are you really going to tell me you’d rather be practicing your violin <em>all night long</em>?” Tim heaves a heavy sigh of defeat, and she smiles widely.</p><p>“Yay! Conner and Bart are going to be so excited! I’ll let everyone else know.” Tim has to chuckle a bit at her enthusiasm. “So, I’ll pick you up around seven? You’ll have to give me your address.”</p><p>“You don’t have to do that!” Tim objects immediately. “I can drive myself.”</p><p>“Don’t be silly! Then you’d know where we’re going.”</p><p>“You said we’re going to get pizza.”</p><p>“We are, but it’s special. If I tell you where, it’ll ruin the surprise.”</p><p>“<em>Fine</em>.” Tim grouses. “I’m already regretting letting you talk me into this.”</p><p>“Aw, hush. It’ll be fun! Now, give me your address.” She grabs her phone, waiting to punch the info in. Tim gives it to her, all the while wondering what he’s gotten himself into this time. Despite himself, he’s not really sorry.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>“What’s up with you?” Jason asks suspiciously.</p><p>“What?” Tim says, confused.</p><p>“You’re all… chipper.” The man looks Tim over critically, eyeing him as Tim sets up his music things.</p><p>“Chipper? What am I, a chipmunk?”</p><p>“I’m wondering. You were humming! A Disney song!” Was he? He vaguely remembers Stephanie humming as they left the union together.</p><p>“<em>You </em>know Disney songs?” Tim counters, raising a brow at Jason.</p><p>“Shut up.” Jason growls. “I <em>did </em>have a semblance of a childhood.”</p><p>“Sure, and it’s not because you watch Disney movies now.”</p><p>“I don’t.” Jason says adamantly.</p><p>“You liar; I came home to you watching Tangled a week and a half ago.” Jason’s cheeks turn ruddy, and he turns away. “It’s okay, Jason. You can’t deny your inner princess.” Tim teases.</p><p>“Oh, shove it.” Jason says over his shoulder as he walks into the kitchen. Tim laughs, smiling when he hears the man opening a beer.</p><p>“Besides, are we not going to talk about the fact that I can hear <em>you</em> singing in the shower?”</p><p>“What’s wrong with that? Everyone sings in the shower.” Tim counters, smile still playing on his lips.  Jason lets Tim’s comment go, settling in on the sofa with his drink and his laptop.</p><p>“Anyway, you never answered my question.” Jason brings the conversation back around.</p><p>“Oh. Yeah. Stephanie just finally tracked me down and interrogated me about why I’ve been avoiding her and the rest of my friends.”</p><p>“Stephanie… Stephanie-calls-slash-texts-several-times-a-night Stephanie?” Jason asks. Tim nods. “Okay, so why are you happy about that?”</p><p>“She invited me to join her and the rest of the crew for pizza on Saturday.”</p><p>“And you said yes?” Jason asks dubiously.</p><p>“Don’t sound so surprised.” Tim sniffs. What? Can’t he hang out with people?</p><p>“It’s just—you’ve been so—” Jason pauses, looking around. “Consumed with your work. I <em>am</em> surprised, kid.”</p><p>“Sorry to abandon you. I won’t be out too late, though.”</p><p>“Whatever.” Jason shrugs, pausing to take a swallow of his drink. “I don’t care what you’re doing.” Tim shrugs right back at him, and picks up his violin. If he’s going to skip out on practicing on Saturday, then he’ll have to work doubly hard for the rest of the week.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Between working on his music, his studies, and sleeping (the last one being unfortunately necessary) the weekend rolls around quickly. Tim, true to his plan, works doubly hard the few days before Saturday. Jason is a constant in the chaotic background of Tim’s life, and Tim is particularly grateful for that support as he tries to work double-time to allow himself enough to time to not feel too guilty about taking Saturday evening off.</p><p>Then Saturday rolls around. Tim has finished up practice for the day about half an hour ago, now, and waits for Stephanie’s arrival. He feels a little weird about her picking him up since he totally could’ve transported himself, but there’s no fighting Stephanie when she wants something. He and Jason are playing poker around the coffee table—Jason’s idea; Tim’s winning—when Stephanie knocks. Tim jumps up, scooping up the meager change they had been betting with and pocketing it.</p><p>“This isn’t over.” Jason promises as he watches despondently as Tim collects his winnings. “I’ll win it back next time.”</p><p>“Sure you will.” Tim says, grabbing his coat and opening the door.</p><p>“Tim!” The cheerful blonde waiting at his door squeals and wraps her arms around his neck.</p><p>“Uh—hey, Stephanie.” Tim says, alarmed.</p><p>“Ready for a night of partying?” She releases him, noticing Jason. “Hey, who’s this?”</p><p>“This is Jason.” Tim says somewhat awkwardly—or he feels awkward. He isn’t sure if the others do. “Jason, this is Stephanie.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you.” Stephanie says, eyeing Jason. Jason nods from his position on the sofa. “Come on, Tim. The others are waiting in the car.”</p><p>“Right. See you later, Jason.” Tim waves, and Jason waves back. Tim thinks he sees a glimmer of an odd expression pass over the other man’s face, but he is already closing the door, so he doesn’t get a chance to tell for certain. Stephanie keeps talking to him as they descend the stairs to ground level. She leads the two of them to an old and beat-up looking vehicle, gesturing for him to climb in the back.</p><p>“Uh, are you sure this thing is safe?” Tim looks at it critically. Stephanie shoots him a glare as she opens the driver’s door.</p><p>“Shut up, Boy Wonder. Don’t insult my wheels. She’s a better car than she looks like.”</p><p>“Okay…” Tim says dubiously, climbing in. Conner and Bart are waiting in the back seat, Cassie riding shotgun.</p><p>“Yo, Tim!” Bart greets, his freckled face split in a smile. “Are you excited or what?”</p><p>“Hey, Bart.” Tim returns, buckling into the seat behind Cassie. “Hey, Conner, Cassie.”</p><p>“What’s up?” Conner grins at Tim, and Tim can’t help but feel relaxed. These are his friends. They have fun together.</p><p>Cassie nods at him as Steph buckles into the front. With both blondes settled in the front, Stephanie starts the car and peels away from the building with far more speed than the car looks like it can handle. Tim is thrown into Bart as she makes a sharp right turn.</p><p>“Sorry!” Tim says as he peels himself out of Bart’s lap. “Stephanie, calm down! This isn’t Nascar!” The others chuckle.</p><p>“Get used to it. She’s a maniac on the streets.” Conner warns him.</p><p>“And I never killed anybody yet.” Steph says, adjusting her rearview mirror so she can see the backseat passengers. “Hold on, lady and gentlemen. We have twenty minutes until arrival.” Stephanie says in her best airline-attendant voice. She whips around another corner, pushing Tim against the door. He hopes he can make it that long before the nausea rising in his stomach becomes overpowering.</p><p>Fortunately for all the car’s passengers, they do. For all her seemingly reckless abandon, Stephanie actually got them there expediently, maneuvering tightly into a space before letting everyone out.</p><p>“God. Please somebody else drive us home.” Tim says as he crawls out of the car with obvious relief.</p><p>“Come on, it’s not <em>that </em>bad.” Stephanie says, locking the car as Bart exits last.</p><p>“Don’t worry, if it makes you feel better, I’ll drive!” the redhead says enthusiastically. Conner shakes his head.</p><p>“Not a chance. Stephanie might get us a ticket, buy <em>you’ll </em>get us all killed.” Bart pouts at him for a moment, but is distracted by the building. It is small, less flashy than Tim might’ve anticipated for all the chatter about it.</p><p>The five of them walk in, Tim last in the pack, so everyone else is already moving onward when he steps inside.</p><p>The place isn’t much bigger than it appeared from the outside, and to Tim’s first glance, it looks much like many other pizza parlors he’s been in. Then, his scanning eyes reach the back of the room, and two details pop out at him. One: the back wall, painted black, has an electric green door with the words “Laser Tag” Painted over it, and two: in the back corner there is a small stage with a screen and speakers around it. On it a man is singing. Karaoke. Tim now knows why they came here.</p><p>“Oh, no.” Tim says before he can stop himself. Conner turns back, throwing an arm around him, pulling him along with the rest of the group.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Timmy. It’s traditional. You’ll have fun.” He assures him as the group moves towards the laser tag door. “Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be good at this.” Tim takes a deep breath. Okay. This is fine. Really, it is. Now that he’s gotten over his initial surprise, he might even go so far as to say he’s excited for it. He’s never really played laser tag (or played much at all) so he doesn’t know. He might even love it.</p><p>Stephanie, the undeclared spokesperson of the group, stops at a counter in the back, purchasing five tickets for laser tag. She gives them a thumbs up, and they head through the door. The arena is sci-fi themed, everything painted black with accents of blues and greens and yellows that glow in the black lights that provide the main lighting in the space. Tim feels a tug of competitiveness pull at him. He wants to win.</p><p>After a bored looking employee explains the rules to them, they divide up. The five of them are the only ones there for their game, so they have to split two-three. They end up putting Stephanie, Cassie, and Bart together while Tim and Conner team up. The put on their vests with blinking lights telling Tim that he is the red team, and then disperse to their respective sides.</p><p>Obstacles fill the room, providing cover and hiding places as well as platforms and low bridges for people to maneuver around. Conner pulls Tim along, seeming pretty familiar with the landscape. They duck behind a board with a silly-looking alien painted on it so they can talk briefly before the start it called.</p><p>“Okay, here’s the deal.” Conner says in a low tone. “Bart is reckless, he’ll just try a mad dash. He and Cassie are pretty much the same, if you lay low for just a minute, they’ll reveal themselves and you can find them. Steph’s the one you have to look out for. She’ll sneak around and catch you off guard if you aren’t careful.”</p><p>“Alright.” Tim nods, fingering the heavy plastic weapon in his hands. “Let’s do it.”</p><p>A buzzer sounds in the room, and suspenseful music drifts from speakers hidden somewhere in the room.</p><p>“Okay!” Conner whispers. “Here we go.”</p><p>Tim slips around the board, creeping along, low to the ground. Conner goes off in the opposite direction, making towards the center of the room. Tim moves stealthily, skirting along the sides of the room. It is quiet save for the action-movie-esque tunes filling the room.</p><p>Then he hears a commotion on the other side of the room, tinny sound effects signifying weapons being fired. Tim hurries along, hugging the walls as he creeps past the sounds of the scuffle, around to the side where the Blue Team would have started. From there he peeks out and sees Bart hiding behind a pillar, his back to Tim. As Tim watches, he leans around, shooting at Conner. Tim watches Bart dash around the pillar to a new spot, Conner’s toy gun making <em>pew pew </em>sounds in a very cliché way.</p><p>Then Cassie appears, coming to Bart’s aid. Together, they approach Conner. Tim has the perfect set up, and finds a spot where he can just peek up over an obstacle to shoot. From there he begins firing at Bart and Cassie, several fast shots in quick succession. Their confusion is evident as their vests make sad noises telling the two they’ve been shot. It only takes them a moment to realize that Tim is behind them, and together they whirl on Tim.        </p><p>Tim has to duck down to avoid their return fire, but he knows that as they focus on him, Conner is popping out to draw their attention again. He and Tim have Bart and Cassie trapped, just according to plan. It really went flawlessly, Tim thinks as he pops out to fire a few more shots.</p><p>Wait. Stephanie. As soon as he thinks that, a flash of blonde hair on his peripheral vision tells him she has appeared. She shoots at him, his vest buzzing obnoxiously as her aim proves true. Tim dashes out, firing back at Steph as he dashes for a new spot.</p><p>From there, all attempts at subterfuge and trickery are abandoned. It becomes a plain old firefight. Tim eventually makes his way to meet Conner, and they cover each other’s backs. Tim is grinning fiercely by the time the ending buzzer sounds, and he high-fives Conner.</p><p>“Dude, nice job!” Conner says. Tim smiles widely at him.</p><p>“Not so bad yourself.” He returns as they make their way to the door they entered from.</p><p>There are screens outside that display which team won, and Tim is pleased to see that it was him and Conner.</p><p>“Man, you guys killed us!” Bart groans as he reviews the scores. “Tim, are you sure you’re not, like, a ninja or something?”</p><p>“No.” Stephanie says. “He wears to much red to be a ninja.” She gestures pointedly at Tim’s red long-sleeved shirt that he currently wears.</p><p>“The Red Ninja, then.” Bart amends.</p><p>“Come on, Red Ninja.” Conner says throwing his arm over Tim’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for the Blue Team to buy us some food.</p><p>There is a bit of general eye-rolling, but Cassie agrees to cover the cost.</p><p>They grab a booth that has a decent view of the karaoke stage, and settle in. The booth is curved, so Tim ends up squashed right in the middle between Cassie and Conner. A waiter comes over, takes their orders, and leaves. Minutes later they have their drinks. Tim takes his glass, enjoying the cold water.</p><p>“I’m glad you’re here.” Stephanie says to him from Cassie’s other side.</p><p>“Me too.” Tim says honestly.</p><p>“<em>I’m </em>sure glad you are.” Conner says. “Otherwise I might have had to suffer through another boys versus girls match. This guy,” he gestures at Bart, “is not great at laser tag.” He grins at Bart good-naturedly.</p><p>“Hey!” Bart protests, crinkling his nose. “I’m not that bad.”</p><p>“Sure you’re not.” Stephanie grins. Bart gives and exaggerated harrumph, sipping at his Mountain Dew—as if he need more energy.</p><p>“So, Tim.” Stephanie says, making her about-to-dig-into-gossip face. “Who was your hot roommate? He kind of has the bad-boy look going on.” Tim, who was sipping at his water, coughs. Conner pats at his back as he splutters.</p><p>“Oh.” Tim wonders if he could have been any more awkward. “That was Jason.”</p><p>“Jason, huh? He had nice eyes.”</p><p>“Nice eyes?” Tim repeats, bewildered.</p><p>“Yeah. So do you.” Stephanie says matter-of-factly. Tim flushes, and Conner chuckles.</p><p>Tim doesn’t really know how to respond to the comment about his eyes, so he goes back to Jason. “Jason is my new roommate. I offered to let him stay after some difficulties came up in his life.”</p><p>“That’s nice of you.” Cassie says. “Does he go to our university?”</p><p>“Well, no.” Tim says. He feels inexplicably embarrassed about the whole Jason topic, not because he was embarrassed about Jason himself, rather that his friends might not understand. He didn’t want them thinking he was harboring ruffian delinquents.</p><p>“Where does he go?” Stephanie asked.</p><p>“He dropped out of college to pursue his own career in music.” Tim explains.</p><p>“A musician, huh? I should’ve guessed. What, did you guys meet at orchestra camp or something?”</p><p>“Something like that.” Tim says, rather hoping to gloss over the fact that they met behind a bar that Tim was too young to be at.</p><p>“Well, you should give me his phone number.” Stephanie says, eyes on Tim. Tim laughs like she was joking, but he’s not entirely sure. For some reason, the idea of Stephanie and Jason together makes him uncomfortable, a weird feeling coiling in his stomach.</p><p>“Come on, Stephanie, leave the poor guy alone.” Conner says, perhaps picking up on Tim’s emotions. “Tim doesn’t want to play matchmaker.”</p><p>“Sorry, sorry.” Stephanie laughs. As they talk, a waiter with their pizza on a large platter appears, setting their meal down. Tim’s stomach makes a grumbling complaint, reminding him just how hungry he is.</p><p>“Bon appetite!” Bart cheers, grabbing a slice quickly. They all follow suit, the pizza perfectly gooey and warm. After their meal, Stephanie announces that it’s time for them to hit the karaoke machine.</p><p>“Come on, Tim, I have a duet I want to do!” She jumps up, trying to tug Tim out with her.</p><p>“What? No! No way!” Tim protests, panicked. “Sorry, but there is no way I am going up there.” Stephanie pouts.</p><p>“You’re no fun.” She pulls such an honestly disappointed face that Tim can’t help but feel bad. “I guess I’ll go sing on my own. I’ll pick a song about heartbreak.” Her voice is melancholy. Tim <em>knows </em>she is just trying to guilt him into singing. It’s kind of working. He frowns, tapping his fingers anxiously on the table. Tim exhales loudly.</p><p>“Fine. I’ll do it.” What the hell, why not? He’s here to let loose and have fun with his friends. Tonight is supposed to be about relaxing and not stressing so much about his problems. So, he’s not going to stress out about singing in front of crowd, either.</p><p>“Yes!” Stephanie pumps her fist. “I’ll get us on the list.”</p><p>“What if I can’t even sing?” Tim calls to her retreating form. “You don’t know.”</p><p>“You can’t possibly be worse than Conner.” She says over her shoulder. “He sounded like an angry buffalo.”</p><p>“What?” Conner says, aghast. “I sound just fine!” He claps a mock-hurt hand over his chest. “Well, I never.” Tim laughs.</p><p>“Good luck, music boy.” Cassie says, giving him an encouraging pat. “Don’t mess up. I’ll be taping.”</p><p>“Oh, great.” Tim says, as Stephanie gestures from by the stage for him to join her. “Please, for the love of sanity, don’t put it on Tik-Tok.”</p><p>“No promises!” She returns, pulling out her bling-adorned cellphone. “Now go! You’ve got a ballad to sing.”</p><p>Tim wonders why he’s doing this as Conner, Bart, and Cassie laugh. It’s too late to go back now, though, as he climbs up with Stephanie as he is handed a microphone. The lyric appear on screen, and Tim thinks it’s some Disney song. Something about magic carpets and new worlds? He’s pretty sure he knows this one, so he’s not panicking. He can’t look at Conner or Cassie or Bart, though, whenever he’s singing a line that says something like, “princess,” because he is positive they’re sniggering in their both, and Tim will fall apart if he looks at them. He just kind of lets go and enjoys it.</p><p>If there’s one small benefit to spending most of his life training on a musical instrument, it’s that he has a great ear for pitch and rhythm, so he manages to be pretty in-tune for the majority of the song. Stephanie looks like she’s having the time of her life—she sings like she was born to be on a stage—so Tim enjoys himself as well.</p><p>Then, the song is over, and they retreat to their seats.</p><p>“Wow, Tim.” Conner says, nodding with eyebrows raised high. “You can actually sing.”              </p><p>“Heh. Guess so.” Tim says, grinning at him.</p><p>“I was a little worried Steph was dragging you up there to be embarrassed, but she totally called it.” Cassie says. “Tim is a big nerd who sings Disney songs.”</p><p>“Come on, you’ve never gone up there?” Tim asks, folding his arms, still smiling.</p><p>“Not to sing songs like that, dork!” Cassie teases.</p><p>“Don’t mind them.” Bart interjects. “Tim, having a good voice is a gift: it’ll make the ladies swarm right to ya.” He tosses his hands in the air in a confident, <em>what can you do </em>gesture.</p><p>“Yeah, like <em>you </em>would know.” Conner jokes. Tim laughs. He could hang out like this all night.</p><p>“Please, I’ll prove it to you.” Bart says. “Bet you five dollars—no, ten—that if I go up there and sing I can get that girl to give me her phone number.” He points to a girl with glossy black hair sitting with two other girls. She’s a little out of Bart’s league, Tim thinks. Conner is obviously thinking the same thing, because he readily agrees to the bet. Bart smooths back his hair in what was probably meant to be a sultry manner, but his wild curls refuse to comply.</p><p>“Go get ‘em, tiger.” Stephanie laughs, sitting back down in the booth. “This ought to be good,” she says on an aside to the rest of the group. They settle down, watching Bart eagerly wait his turn in the queue to sing. Just before he goes on, he looks over at the group, gives them two thumbs up and grins confidently.</p><p>“Oh, man, I can’t watch.” Cassie says. Tim watches the same way he would look at the slow motion replay of a car crash; he’s feeling the pity for Bart before he’s even started singing.</p><p>Bart picks a cheesy song, winking in the direction of the girl as he croons into the mic. He’s not bad, per se, but he’s not really that good either. Tim notes out of the corner of his eye that Cassie is taping this as well. Then the song is over, and Bart puts on a swagger as he stalks up to the girl and her friends.</p><p>They are too far away to hear any of the words being exchanged, but the body language is telling enough. Bart says something—a painfully tacky pickup line, Tim suspects—and the girls look at one another. The <em>who is this guy </em>is pretty clear on their faces. Bart turns to the girl he picked out, and says something else. They don’t see her words, but her posture suggest awkwardness. Bart’s face falls at something she says, but he quickly rearranges his features in another, last-ditch attempt at wooing his target. She laughs a bit, shaking her head. Bart slumps, and nods, trudging his way back to the group.</p><p>“I’m guessing that was a no?” Cassie asks. Bart doesn’t answer, only grumbling quietly as he pulls out his wallet and hands Conner two fives.</p><p>“Sorry, man.” Conner says, accepting the bill. “Better luck next time.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Bart. We still love you.” Stephanie says, giving Bart a sympathetic look.</p><p> “Yeah, that girl clearly doesn’t know a good-looking guy when she sees one.” Tim says as Bart sits. Bart rolls his eyes.</p><p>“True. I probably wouldn’t have wanted to go out with her, anyway. Her pizza had anchovies on it.” He makes a disgusted expression as the table laughs. Good, old Bart. He bounces back quickly.</p><p>“Yeah, probably.” Conner agrees. Tim smiles. This is fun. He’s not sorry he came. He’s not even sorry he sang with Stephanie—after all, he’s pretty sure Bart was worse than they were.</p><p>“Maybe Tim should go ask her friend out—the one with the sporty look.” Bart suggests, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Tim.</p><p>“Ha, no.” Tim says firmly. “I think they’ve had enough harassment tonight from us. Besides, not like there’d be much of a point.” He hadn’t really meant to say that, and only as a passing joke, but it doesn’t go over that way.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Cassie asks.</p><p>“What?” Tim says, a bit confused.</p><p>“What do you mean there wouldn’t be a point?” Oh. He’d forgotten only Stephanie and Jason knew about his imminent departure from Gotham.</p><p>“Nothing, it’s not important.” Tim says, trying to brush it off, but Cassie is determined.</p><p>“No, what did you mean?”</p><p>“I just- uh- I probably won’t be in Gotham that much longer, so it wouldn’t really be fair to her; that’s all.”</p><p>“You’re leaving Gotham?” Conner says, looking concerned. Tim feels the atmosphere shifting, and he wishes he hadn’t made the passing comment, because now he is going to have to explain the whole thing that he’s trying to avoid right now.</p><p>“It’s kind of complicated, but basically I’m auditioning for a program that’ll take me out of Gotham to learn music for a year, before I get a job.” Tim says, skipping over the whole him-versus-mom power struggle thing.</p><p>“You’re leaving?” Bart repeats, looking distressed.</p><p>“Not for sure. And not for a little bit. But maybe.”</p><p>“Aww, man, but we only just met you!” Bart cries. “How are we supposed to continue our karaoke nights without you now that we know you’ve got such a great singing voice?” Really, though, Bart just looks sad.</p><p>“Well, it sounds like a great opportunity.” Cassie says, giving him a small smile. Tim shrugs half-heartedly. Conner notices, leaning in.                </p><p>“Tim?”</p><p>“No, Cassie’s right. It’s a chance of a lifetime.” Yet, Tim can’t repeat his mother’s words without a slight trace of bitterness tinting them.</p><p>“But you don’t want to.” Conner says, not dancing around the subject. Tim heaves a big sigh. That was the question. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation altogether, tonight. Obviously, that wasn’t going so well.</p><p>“I suppose not.” Tim says.</p><p>“Then why are you doing it?” Cassie tilts her head, blonde curls framing her expression of confusion.</p><p>“It’s… complicated.”</p><p>“Complicated how?” Bart says, unwilling to let it drop.</p><p>“I guess I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave everything behind. It’ll be challenging, too. I’ve pretty much been preparing nonstop for the past two weeks for it.” A look of understanding passes through the group.</p><p>“So <em>that’s </em>why you’ve been ignoring our calls.” Cassie realizes aloud.</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry.” Tim looks down.</p><p>“It’s okay, man. I just wish you would’ve told us or something.” Conner says, patting Tim’s shoulder lightly with a large hand.</p><p>“Yeah. I thought maybe you didn’t like us.” Cassie agrees. Shame makes Tim’s cheeks turn pink.</p><p>“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. You guys have been nothing but great.” It’s true. Tim has never felt so wholeheartedly welcome anywhere before, with such ease. He hadn’t thought too much about it before, but if/when he leaves Gotham, he’s really going to miss this group. The realization makes his breath catch.</p><p>“Hey, Tim.” Conner says softly, picking up on his aching expression. “It’s okay. We’ll miss you, but we’ll still call and text and stuff. And you’ll answer this time, right?” Tim nods, regretful for all the fuss he was making.</p><p>“Yeah, you got it. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it.”</p><p>“Make a big deal? You’re not making it a big deal.” Bart says firmly. “Now come on. If you’re leaving in a bit, then all the more reason to enjoy ourselves now, am I right?” There is a chorus of agreement from the group, and the tension dissipates. Stephanie, who had been watching the exchange silently—having already heard Tim’s tale in more detail—rejoins the conversation.</p><p>“Let’s have a toast.” She says, grabbing her glass. They all do the same. “To friends, near and far!” She raises her glass.</p><p>“To friends.” They refrain, clinking their drinks together. To friends indeed.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>After the meal, Stephanie takes the wheel again. She takes things a bit slower, for which Tim is grateful. After all, now that he has several slices of pizza in his stomach, he’s doubtful he’d be able to avoid an incident if Stephanie drove as she did before.</p><p>Tim is quiet through the drive, instead watching his friends. Stephanie is bright and smiley, as ever, occasionally meeting his eyes as she glances in the rearview mirror. Her blue eyes crinkle when they meet his, and Tim smiles softly back. Cassie is as elegant as ever, her comments fewer than the others but they come with biting humor and power when she speaks. Tim feels an immense respect for her. Bart is the chattiest of them by far, filling the vehicle with meaningless talk about anything under the sun. They way Bart fits into the dynamic kind of reminds Tim of how they might treat a beloved younger brother. They humor his antics, ruffle his hair, and watch out for him. Bart’s probably only a year younger, but his scrawny build and youthful behavior makes him seem like the gap is much larger. And then there’s Conner, whose steady calm is a peaceful middle to the antics of the group. He gives of a sense of control, like he is completely comfortable with himself and the situation around him—though Tim suspects that when he is angry his wrath is terrible. They are each beautiful in their own way, in how they balance one another so well.</p><p>An overwhelming sense of loss hits Tim as he pictures himself leaving for good, becoming a distant memory in the minds of the people who surround him today—a memory to gain dust and eventually be forgotten wholly. The idea makes him feel sick, and he looks away from the group out the window at the grimy city of Gotham instead. It matches his sudden mood much more. Can he really leave this all behind? Will it be worth it? It feels wrong to consider forgetting the whole thing when he has invested so much time and effort into it so far. At the same time, it also feels incredibly wrong to leave these wonderful relationships he is forging behind. It’s tearing him apart. He just doesn’t know.</p><p>Something obviously tips the others off to his sudden mood, because Conner nudges him.</p><p>“Tim?” He says gently, and Tim feels another rush of affection for the people surrounding him—and heartbreak for knowing he will leave them soon.</p><p>“S’nothing. I’m fine.” He shakes his head, and for their sakes, so they don’t worry about him, he smiles. “Anyway, what were you saying, Bart?” He notices the look that passes between Stephanie and Conner, but no further comment made. They reach Tim’s apartment first, since the others are staying at the dorms of Gotham University.</p><p>“Bye, Tim.” They chorus. Tim smiles and waves at them as he climbs out, then Stephanie is off, and they are gone. A gloomy voice is his head wonders if that will be the last time he hangs out with them, since auditions are only a week and a half away, and from now on he won’t have a moment to spare. Really, he doesn’t even know why he’s still bothering with classes, but part of him thinks he’s doing it just in case he changes his mind. He still wants that option, that last brake-line to pull.</p><p>The last few weeks of intense work and the weight of the decision before him hits him now, and he wants to lay down where he is and sleep for the next hundred years until the whole issue has passed. But, obviously, that’s not an option. So instead he blinks back any tears that had been forming in his eyes and tromps up the stairs.</p><p>When he lets himself in to the apartment, Jason is sitting on the sofa watching a movie, just as Tim suspected he would be. Tim closes the door quietly, as Jason greets him.</p><p>“Hey, kid. How was it?” Tim doesn’t answer right away, leaning on the door and gently resting his head on it as he looks upwards. “Kid?” Tim sees Jason look over at him from his peripheral vision.</p><p>Jason. He will definitely miss Jason. Who else will always be there on his sofa when he comes home, always ready to chat or throw a movie on and make popcorn? Then again, Jason would be leaving anyway. Be it when Tim leaves or when Jason gets a job, he was never going to stay with Tim. This was never supposed to be permanent. Jason was always going to leave him behind. That wasn’t a question. It was just something Tim has conveniently ignored while Jason had been staying.</p><p>“Hey, what happened?” Jason asks, pausing his movie and sitting up straight to look properly at Tim, who hasn’t moved. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim says a bit tearfully. “I’m fine, nothing happened.” The tears are back in the corners of his vision, and he doesn’t try to blink them away. “It was really fun, and we played laser tag and did karaoke and—” his voice breaks, and the tears come. Jason is looking at him with a mixture of alarm and concern, but Tim <em>knows </em>that if Jason tries to do anything to comfort him, he will lose his composure, because any affection or care from Jason is too painful, because it just gives him one more thing to make him unsure about what happens next.</p><p>To his despair/relief, Jason smooths his expression of distress and gets up, putting his hands on Tim’s shoulders and steering him to sofa, where he gently prods him to sit. Tim does, Jason sitting next to him. Yup, that’s it. The tears come fully, and Tim is crying without restraint. If he had the emotional capacity, at this point, he would probably be embarrassed that he was sniveling in front of confident and brash Jason, but he doesn’t, so he just cries. Jason pauses for a second before he hesitantly puts an arm around Tim in a half-hug, like he’s unsure if it’s the right thing to do.</p><p>Tim burrows himself into Jason, silently assuring him that yes, the gesture was correct and even appreciated. His shoulders shake with silent sobs, and Jason cautiously pulls him closer.</p><p>“Jeez, kid.” He says after a few minutes of their silent interaction. Tim sniffles pathetically, leaning into Jason. “You want to talk about it?” Tim buries his face in Jason’s shirt, shaking his head wordlessly. Jason nods.</p><p>“Okay. Then, I’m going to start the movie. You can watch with me, if you want.” Tim cannot express how grateful Jason is here right now, because otherwise he’d a sobbing wreck on his bathroom floor, probably. He is also saddened by knowing that the number of nights left with Jason like this are limited.</p><p>So, he shifts so he is still snuggled into Jason’s side—forget how awkward it is, Tim doesn’t care and he’s pretty sure Jason doesn’t either—and faces the TV.</p><p>“What—” his voice comes out bleary and weak, so he tries again. “What are you watching?” Jason raises his brows, and smiles a bit.</p><p>“Indiana Jones. The first one; it’s the best.”</p><p>“What’s it about?” Tim asks meekly.</p><p>“You want me to start it over from the beginning?” Tim nods, and Jason grabs the remote.</p><p>“Alright. Prepare to be amazed, this movie is a classic.” With a small sigh, Tim relaxes. This is what he needs right now. He needs to be able to relax and just spend time with Jason. Being curled up by Jason’s side like a cat is just a bonus—reassuring and comfy—so he’ll stay right there. If he does this, he can put off having to think about his future for a while. Just a little while, that’s all he’s asking. He can do <em>this</em>. The rest, well, that’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. He barely notices he’s falling asleep, only half-processing Jason adjusting his arm. Then, his eyes are closed and he is <em>so</em> comfortable against Jason’s side that he can’t help drifting off. Oops. He wishes he could say he was sorry, but he’s not, so…</p><p>Until tomorrow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Jason</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for sticking with this story so far! Updates will be a little slower going forward but I promise to keep them coming. This story has an end and we are going to get there--not without a lot of drama first, though!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason applies for the mechanic position, but he can’t lie: he knows his heart isn’t fully in it. Jason knows that he has to get a job soon, but getting a job means moving on, moving past Kori and past Roy and past—well, past Tim.</p><p>It was strange. This thing that started out as a relationship formed from necessity and convenience formed into something else so quickly. Tim was no longer “the kid whose apartment he was crashing in,” nor was he “some college student Jason bumped into after a gig.” No, he was more. A friend? A companion? Whatever he was, he was important, so Jason did the best he could with him. The kid sure didn’t make it easy for him.</p><p>Tim would work himself to death, skip meals, and just generally forget to take care of himself, so Jason takes it upon himself to take care of Tim. He cooks meals, reminds Tim to take a break once in a while, even sometimes manages to drag him off long enough to watch a movie or something. Those nights are Jason’s favorite. He loves settling in on Tim’s large, cozy sofa and starting up a flick. He’s learned that Tim had a pretty crappy childhood, and as a student spent most of his time doing things that didn’t include watching movies, so Tim hasn’t seen a lot of the classics and best movies of his time.</p><p>This is another one of Jason’s goals: to educate Tim in the best movies of the century. Doing this means he gets to be there with Tim when he watches a lot of the greatest films ever made—in Jason’s opinion, anyway—and he gets to see Tim laugh and gasp (and occasionally cry) at all his favorite moments. It’s wonderful, and Jason can feel the way it strengthens whatever this relationship is that they have. It’s definitely grown, that’s for sure.</p><p>He’s comfortable wearing his pajamas in front of Tim, Tim lets him live in his house, they can talk to each other, and Tim will sometimes even open up Jason. The kid can be ridiculously stubborn about sharing his feelings sometimes—like <em>Jason </em>really gets to make a comment about that—and Tim will only open up to him in periods of intense emotion. He’s seen Tim upset, he’s seen him happy, he’s seen him seething, but he’s never seen him cry.</p><p>So when Tim walks through door after his night out with friends and starts crying at the door, Jason doesn’t know what to feel. To be honest, he wondered if the kid even <em>could </em>cry; he seemed so determined not to show any kind of emotion like that. To see Tim lose control and his inhibitions like he did, it quite frankly frightens Jason. What the hell happened to him? Did some jerk try to beat him up again? Did his friends end up turning on Tim? Jason knows he’s being ridiculous in speculating like that, but he can’t seem to help it. Tim seems to do that to him; lowers his barriers and weakens his defenses. It’s some pretty cliché crap, so Jason tries not to dwell on it.</p><p>Instead, he moves to Tim’s side, hesitantly shepherding him in his bleak state to the sofa. As Jason sits by him, he runs through his options. Does he grill Tim for information? Does he hug him? What is the appropriate response here? With Kori and Roy, he never had to deal with this kind of stuff. Roy always found solace in substances, and Kori was more likely to go to Roy than him, anyway. Basically, he has no idea what to do. He settles for putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder, drawing him close. Tim leans into the contact, so Jason thinks that was probably the right thing to do.</p><p>He listens and feels as Tim quakes gently beside him. Tim doesn’t say anything more, and Jason doesn’t press. It’s what he’d want if their roles were reversed—not that Jason goes crying to <em>anyone</em>—so that’s what he does for Tim. After a few minutes, the sniffling lessens.</p><p>“Jeez, kid.” Jason says. Then, wondering if he’s ready to talk, Jason asks. Tim just kind of shakes his head against Jason’s side. That’s fine. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, that’s his right. Jason can respect that. Question is, now what?</p><p>“Okay.” Jason starts.</p><p>He looks at the boy at his side, then around the room. His eyes land on the television, paused mid-scene. Maybe that’s it. If Tim’s not going to have out with it, then he needs to move on to something else.</p><p>“Then I’m going to start the movie. You can watch with me, if you want.” He makes it an offer, but he knows Tim won’t decline. He’s pretty sure the kid enjoys their movie nights as much as he does.</p><p>Just as he suspected, Tim turns a bit so he’s not suffocating himself.</p><p>“What—” Tim stutters weakly, and Jason has to wonder why he sounds so damn pathetic, in a way that makes Jason want to protect him. It’s kind of new. “What are you watching?” Tim finishes a little stronger.</p><p>“Indiana Jones. The first one; it’s the best.” Jason answers automatically.</p><p>“What’s it about?” Tim asks. Always so curious.</p><p>“You want me to start it from the beginning?” Tim gives a slight nod, so Jason return to the main menu and restarts the movie.</p><p>“Alright. Prepare to be amazed, this movie is a classic.” He doesn’t mind watching it over again. He doesn’t mind that it’s late and they’ll be up a while. He doesn’t even mind that Tim is cuddled up to him. In fact, he even enjoys it a bit. Not that he’d say so. And when Tim falls asleep not even a third of the way into it, he doesn’t complain. Instead, he appreciates Tim’s warmth next to him, resting his cheek on top of the kid’s messy mop of hair. And he relaxes.</p><p>A little over an hour later, the movie finishes. Jason lets the credits roll all the way to the end before he moves. Tim barely stirs, his deep breaths maintaining their steady rhythm as Jason carefully removes himself from the sofa. He moves Tim with calculated caution, sure to not wake him as he stretches him out more comfortably on the sofa. Jason grabs a throw blanket and drapes it over Tim. He shuts off the TV, turns off the lights, and heads to bed.</p><p>Tomorrow, there will need to be a few questions, just in case there’s anyone Jason needs to beat up. But for tonight, he just wants Tim to sleep.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Jason’s alarm clock tells him it’s barely eight as he wakes up. He stretches, groans, sits up out of bed. He slept great. He throws on a clean outfit, and heads out to see what Tim is doing. To his surprise, he’s still sleeping. Whatever last night was, it clearly wore Tim out. He’s shifted, sprawling across the sofa, his leg hanging off the side. It was kind of hilarious.</p><p>Jason decides that he’ll cook this morning, since Tim is still sleeping and he’s feeling generous. He hums a theme from the movie last night as he scrambles eggs over the stove.</p><p>“Jason?” Tim’s voice comes groggily a few minutes later. Jason peers over his shoulder and sees Tim, hair mussed from sleep eyes still sleep-fogged.</p><p>“Morning, babybird.” Jason says.</p><p>“Babybird?” Tim repeats. Jason shrugs, focusing on the food.</p><p>“I made food.” Tim comes into the kitchen with a suspicious look on his face.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I can’t just make food?” Jason asks, even though he knows Tim’s going to call him on it.</p><p> “You can, but you <em>don’t</em>.”</p><p> “Well, I am.” Jason says, as he turns off the stove. Tim moves to his side to help him plate the food, and Jason tries to shoo him away, but Tim stubbornly stays at his side. They grab food, and Jason leads the way to the sofa. They usually eat at the counter, but Jason wants to talk, and the sofa is a better location for that. Tim looks a little surprised when he exits the kitchen, but follows. A shadow passes over his face, like he already knows that Jason wants to have a serious talk. Neither of them are a fan, but talking sometimes becomes necessary, and Jason thinks that he needs to make sure Tim was okay, that it wasn’t an issue with his friends.</p><p>Jason waits before they have had a minute to start their food before he breaks the silence.</p><p>“What happened?” He asks bluntly. He’s not going to beat around the bush. “Was it your friends? Did they hurt you?” Tim’s expression of discontent quickly shifts to one of shock.</p><p>“What? No! No, it wasn’t like that at all.” That’s a relief to Jason.</p><p>“Then what was it like?”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Jason. It’s nothing. Really, I promise.” Jason narrows his eyes.</p><p>“Just tell me: is there anyone I should be tracking down to punch?” Tim flushes.</p><p>“No, Jason. No people to punch. No punching people in general.” Jason rolls his eyes. He’ll see about that. If he meets Tim’s mom, he might just break that rule. Not really, Jason admits. He wouldn’t hit Tim’s mom. But he <em>would </em>give her a very expressive and detailed description of what he thought of her and her <em>opportunities.</em></p><p>“So you came home sobbing about nothing?” That was a little cruel; Tim’s wince makes him feel a little bad. But he’s not going to have any more moping about than necessary, not when Tim could be leaving in a week and a half.</p><p>“No, I—” Tim looks away. When he starts up again, his voice is mechanical, as if he’s trying to distance himself from the words. “I just realized how much I’ll be leaving behind.” And dammit, that’s too sappy for Jason to know how to respond to, but he quite literally asked for it. So Jason takes a bite of his food, chewing it longer than entirely necessary. Yeah, Jason doesn’t know how to deal with that statement, so he does what he normally when he’s not sure how to deal: he doesn’t.</p><p>His phone saves him. It rings in his pocket, and he sucks in a deep breath and stands. He moves into the bedroom hall to take it, leaving Tim in the living room.</p><p>“Yeah. Jason Todd.” He says gruffly.</p><p>“Mr. Todd? This is Dorian, from West Side Auto.” The man from the mechanic shop that he had applied at. He suddenly doesn’t know <em>what </em>he wants to hear. Getting the job means moving on. Taking back his independence. It also means severing the close relationship he had built with Tim. Well, Tim was leaving no matter what he did, so he supposes that it’s only logical to want the job. But logic doesn’t sway his emotions. </p><p>“I’m calling to let you know that while we appreciate your application, you’re not quite what we’re looking for regarding this position.” Oh. Okay. Rejection stings a bit more than he thought it would.</p><p>“Alright.” Jason says. “Thanks for calling.” Then he hangs up. He doesn’t need to hear any more. He pauses in the hall before going back to Tim. He leans on the wall as he pockets his phone. Running his hands through his hair, he wonders what he does next. He hadn’t really put too much thought into what would happen if he didn’t get this job. He’s running out of options pretty fast. There were a couple more jobs he had outlined, but he wasn’t sure how quickly he could get into them. And with Tim potentially leaving in under than a fortnight, Jason was looking at being on the streets again. No. Never again.</p><p>He comes back into the room. Tim is still sitting there, and being the clever person he is, it takes him no time at all to notice something off about Jason. That was Tim for you: always willing to put others’ problems before his own.</p><p>“What happened?” Tim looks at him like he’s trying to analyze him. A second later, Tim leans back and nods, as if he could see the answer on Jason.</p><p>“The job at the mechanic?” Jason grunts affirmatively. “I’m sorry to hear that. What are you going to do?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Jason answers honestly. “But I’ll figure something out. I always do.” Tim looks down.</p><p>“I wish there was something more I could do for you.” Tim says. Jason snorts.</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve already done far more than anyone else would have. You let me stay here, offered me food, let me use your TV, and I’ve barely done anything for you, other than fill up your sink with dishes and take up space. We haven’t even been doing my part of the bargain: the guitar lessons. I’m pretty much useless—which seems to be a common theme.” Woah, where had all <em>that </em>bitterness come from? He hadn’t even fully realized he was feeling that way until he dredged his feelings out into the open.</p><p>“No.” Tim says sharply.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I said no. You are not useless.” Tim looks angry, why, Jason can’t quite understand.</p><p>“Tell that to the Mr. Mechanic.” Jason huffs. “Look, kid, I’m really not that upset about it. Forget I said anything.”</p><p>“No, really.” Tim says, scooting closer but remaining on the sofa. “I probably wouldn’t have survived the week without you here.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s true.” Jason says. “You really should be paying <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“I can.” Tim says, so sincerely and openly. Jason instantly shakes his head. The idea appalls him. It would suggest that he was doing this simply for a profit or because he was looking for a place to stay. Maybe at the very beginning. But no, not anymore. He’s doing this because he legitimately enjoys being around Tim, because Tim is delightful company, and because he’s worried no one will take care of Tim if he doesn’t.</p><p>“God, no.” Jason shakes his head. “Never.” He sighs. “I’m going to scout out for another job.” He says, gesturing towards the paper sitting on the coffee table.</p><p>“Okay.” Tim says, a little sadly. Tim gets up to put his plate away, and Jason picks up the paper. He sees an ad for a position in the mail room of Wayne Enterprises. <em>Ha!</em> As if. Jason shakes his head. He’s getting a little bit desperate, but he’s definitely not <em>that </em>desperate. Not yet, anyways. He locates a few adverts he had circled as options, and grabs his phone. Time to start making some calls.</p><p>A couple hours later he has a few more options, but the timeline isn’t good. He needs a miracle right now to straighten things out. He and Tim both do. Or maybe a drink. A drink definitely sounds like a decent alternative. What with the majority of noise in the apartment being Jason talking on the phone and Tim practicing his violin, it’s a little hard not to focus on the impending deadlines.</p><p>It’s wearing on everyone’s nerves. Jason escapes that evening to find himself a bar. He doesn’t say much to Tim—just goes. Jason goes and he drinks. He wishes Roy and Kori were at his side. He wishes his band was still together. He wishes he had a decent job. He wishes Tim isn’t leaving, that their paths weren’t separating all too soon, probably for good.</p><p>And that’s what will happen. Jason has no illusion about that. Sure, Tim might only be studying away for a year, but then he’s going to get a job, a <em>real, </em>well-paying job. His life will be on a whole other level. And Jason won’t be a part of that. He’s a nobody. A street urchin who had a chance at a better life and threw it away with his recklessness. Tim’s not going to come back for that. He’s not going to want to come back to Jason and his ugly problems. He’s rising to a new plane. Evolving. He’ll be past Jason in a few months’ time, at most.</p><p>Jason needs to get over it, the sooner the better. If he knew what was good for himself, he’d push Tim away while he still had control of the situation. He’d hurt Tim before Tim could hurt him. But Jason’s not going to do that. He can’t. Not when Tim has been nothing but good to Jason. He’s too late; Jason’s too attached for this to end any way but badly. Because that’s what happens when Jason gets attached: it ends badly.</p><p>He goes home late, drunk. It’s about one thirty, so Tim is already in bed. Indications of work on the counter show that Tim must have stayed up for a while waiting for him, but evidently gave up as the minutes kept crawling on and Jason was no closer to their—no, not their, <em>Tim’s</em>—front steps. Jason slinks through the apartment, doing only minimal preparations for bed before he drops to sleep. He doesn’t want to think right now, and thanks to the alcohol running through his veins, he doesn’t. He just sleeps.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Jason wakes up with a killer hangover. He groans as soon as consciousness wraps its claws around him. He fumbles blindly for the bottle of Advil on his nightstand, grabbing two pills and swallowing them dry before his eyes are even fully open. Pills, check. Next, greasy food and coffee. ASAP. He stumbles into the hall, rubbing at his pounding skull.</p><p> “Tim?” He doesn’t get a response. He peeks in the kitchen, it as empty as the living room. There is a coffee pot on the counter, but when Jason goes over, it is cold. He looks at the clock and sees that it’s half past ten. Oh. Right. Monday. Tim has classes. Great. He missed breakfast. Jason heats up a cup of coffee, downing it. Hopefully, things will kick in soon and this awful state will pass. Jason opens the fridge looking for any leftover foods. To his delight, he finds a chilidog he hadn’t finished earlier in the weekend. Greasy food. Thank goodness.</p><p>He eats that too and plops on the sofa with a depressed sigh. He could be doing things right now, but since he already did what he could getting in contact with potential employers, now he was just waiting. If waiting meant watching bad action movies, he was all in. He’s halfway through a gory zombie film when his phone rings. Can’t be Tim; he’s in class. Maybe it’s Roy, or Kori. God, he could really go for chatting with them right now. He grabs it and hits answer without looking at the caller ID.</p><p>So when the speaker greets him, he is completely surprised.</p><p>“Hey, Jason? It’s Dick. I need a favor.”</p><p>“Dickie-bird?” Jason says in disbelief. Normally he would’ve hung right then, but he was caught off guard, and the shock made him almost forget about his splitting headache for a moment, so he decides to humor Dick. “What do <em>you </em>want?”</p><p>“Nice to talk to you to.” Jason rolled his eyes and reconsidered that hanging up option. “Look, I need your help.” Dick says with a sigh.</p><p>“What could I possibly do for you? I live to serve.” Jason says sarcastically.</p><p>“You watch the news?”</p><p>“What kind of question is that?”</p><p>“Do you?” Dick counters.</p><p>“What’s it to you?” Jason says, feeling obstinate.</p><p>“Did you see the story about the hostage situation at that jewelry store in Blüdhaven?”</p><p>“Would you just get to the point already?”</p><p>“I got shot.”</p><p>“You—what? Are you okay?” Jason asks.</p><p>“Obviously a little okay, Jay-Jay.”</p><p>“Okay… so what do you want?” There was a static-y sigh from the other end. Well, if Dick was expecting sympathy or any kind of pity, he shouldn’t have called Jason.</p><p>“I need you to come to the manor.”</p><p>“No.” Jason says adamantly before Dick has a chance to go further. He’s not going there.</p><p>“Hear me out, Jason, please.”</p><p>“Only because you said please.” Jason growled.</p><p>“I need you to just come by once a day to help with Damian. I’m incapacitated, Alfred’s out of country visiting friends in England, and Bruce is swamped with work at WE so you wouldn’t even have to see him.”</p><p>“And what, you want me to come and play nanny?” Jason can’t help noting that he was kind of already doing that with Tim. One charge is enough.</p><p>“We just need you to come by and throw some food in a stove, make sure Damian is working on his homework, and feed Titus.”             </p><p>“Titus?”</p><p>“Damian’s dog.”</p><p>“And what, the brat can’t do that himself?”</p><p>“He’s eleven!” Dick says indignantly. “Damian shouldn’t have to. Look, I know you hate the manor, but we could really use the extra hands around here. We’re swamped, because I’m trying to at least keep in touch with the Department since I’m off duty until my shoulder heals. Please, Jason.”</p><p>Jason is picking out the exact words to tell Dick hell no, but the idiot keeps rambling on and on.</p><p>“Damian’s got so much schoolwork from all his courses at Gotham Academy, and I’m going through all these case files for the Blüdhaven PD, and Bruce is busy negotiating that Drake-Wayne business deal, and he’s been spending nights at the office—”</p><p>“Wait, what did you say?” Jason says with sudden interest.</p><p>“Bruce has been spending nights at the office?” Dick repeats questioningly.</p><p>“No, about the deal he’s making.” Jason says urgently.</p><p>“The Drake-Wayne deal?”</p><p>“Yeah, that.” Could it be the Drakes like Tim Drake? Is it possible Jason’s adoptive family is working with Tim’s blood family?</p><p>“I don’t know, Bruce was just talking about it. He’s making a deal with some archeology group. He’s paying them to go down to Africa and do a few digs in an area that they pinpointed using Wayne Tech and stuff. I don’t really know that much about it.”</p><p>Jason is hit with the terrible temptation to dig deeper and find out if it is indeed the Drake family he thinks it is. Dick is still blabbering on about whatever boring things that have been going on in his life, something about Damian entering an art competition or something.</p><p>“He’s really good, Jay, you should see. Who’d of thought we had an artist in the family? I’m not surprised that he won, though he was—”</p><p>“I’ll do it.” Jason cuts in. There is silence for a moment.</p><p>“Wait, really? Are you being serious?” Dick sounds astounded. “I don’t even have to bribe you?”</p><p>“Oh no, bribes will definitely be needed. But I’ll do it.”</p><p>“Well, great!” he sounds pleasantly surprised, and Jason can picture the sappy expression that Dick is making.</p><p>“Whatever. Don’t make a big deal about it. I’m only doing it because you’re too pathetic to take care of yourself and your family.”</p><p>“<em>Our </em>family.” Dick says, like he really believes that.</p><p>“Whatever, Dickie-bird.”</p><p>“So, drop by today?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jason says. He can’t believe he just agreed to this. He’ll be lucky if he gets through this without killing anybody. Jason hangs up, and falls back against the sofa. Ugh. This is going to majorly suck. At least his hangover is lessening now.</p><p>Jason looks at the clock. Even through Dick said Bruce was busy at Wayne Enterprises, he should probably go soon-ish just to be safe. If he meets Bruce face to face when he’s not expecting him, he <em>definitely </em>will punch him.</p><p>About an hour later, Jason is freshly showered and dressed. He throws on his coat, grabs his bike keys, and hits the road. He weaves through traffic, speeding with little regard to the posted limits. If an officer wanted to give him a ticket, they’d have to catch him first.</p><p>Jason is not surprised to discover that he remembers the exact route to the manor. He may not have been there for years, but he hasn’t forgotten. Not by a long shot.</p><p>As Jason drives up the winding road leading to Wayne Manor, he snorts derisively at the wealth and grandeur around him. The well-trimmed bushes and immaculate lawns were offensively clean. Jason pulls to a stop in front of the steps of the manor, setting the kickstand.</p><p>He steels himself and pounds on the door in three brief knocks. Tapping his foot, Jason waits about a minute and a half before the door is opened. Takes long enough when they don’t have a butler waiting on call.</p><p>One of the double doors swings open to reveal a grumpy looking boy. Damian. He glowers at Jason, and glares right back.</p><p>“Todd. Grayson said you would be coming,” Damian sniffs, the snotty little brat.</p><p>“Damian.”</p><p>“I tried to convince Grayson that your services are unnecessary, but he would not be swayed.” Damian moves aside to let him pass, a scowl etched onto his young face. “Grayson is in the parlor. He will wish to speak with you.”</p><p>Jason looks around a bit. The walls and paneling and flooring are all so familiar. He knows his room is just up the stairs. It is probably just as messy as he left it.  The last time he was here was when he came back from college to announce he was dropping out and joining Roy to form a band. In a loud manner. He told Bruce he didn’t need or want his help. Quite explicitly. Then he walked out, and didn’t come back. Not until now. He wonders if Bruce ever missed him. Probably not, he was definitely the “problem child.”</p><p>Jason shoves his hands in his pockets and leans in the parlor door. Dick is propped up in a chair, wrapped in a blanket that doesn’t quite cover his bandages wrapping his shoulder. Dick perks up as Jason walks in the room, grinning.</p><p>“You came! Hi, Jason. I was wondering if you just agreed to get me to stop talking about it.” Dick smiled. Jason strolled into the room, leaning on the back of a sofa.</p><p>“Thought about it. But I wasn’t doing anything better, and there’s usually decent food in the fridge, so.” Jason says, feeling a little awkward. Dick opens his arms like he wants a hug, and Jason gives him a look and doesn’t move. “What are you, five? You’re acting more like Damian <em>should </em>be acting.”</p><p>“It’s nice to see you, Jay.” Dick says, putting his arms back down. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s not easy for you.”</p><p>“Whatever.” Jason growls. “Just tell me what I need to do so I can do it and get out of here.”</p><p>“Alright.” Dick pouts. “If you could load and start the dishwasher, that would be great. I tried to get Damian to do it, but he refused, and I can’t make him do anything when I’m incapacitated like this. Also, if you feel like making lunch it would be so much better than me ordering pizza for another day and putting the poor delivery boy through the ordeal of having Damian answer the door.”</p><p>“Yeah, thanks for that. The kid acts like he’s a little prince.” Jason says, grimacing.</p><p>“Yeah, well, he had a rough childhood with his mom.” Dick said. Jason’s never really gotten to know Damian very well. His mother—a beautiful and fierce woman who was the daughter of an extremely powerful middle eastern man—had an illegitimate affair with Bruce over a decade ago, then left Bruce’s life. Bruce hadn’t even known Damian existed until about two years ago when she showed up to Bruce’s doorstep with Damian, announced that he had a son, dumped him there, and left. Yeah. She was not a nice lady. By then, Damian was only nine or so, and his Talia had spent years warping him into everything a nine-year-old shouldn’t be. By the time Damian had come into Bruce’s life, Jason had left it, so he had never actually <em>met </em>the kid.</p><p>It would seem he had been lucky so far.</p><p>“He seems unbearable.”</p><p>“He’s alright.” Dick says fondly. “He has his charms.”</p><p>“Sure he does.” Jason snorts. “Catch you later Dickie-bird. I’m going to go make sure your house hasn’t fallen to pieces yet.”</p><p>“Thanks, Jason.”</p><p>“Don’t thank me, pay me!” Jason calls over his shoulder as he goes to the kitchen. No really, pay him, because he’s broke and getting really desperate. He flashes back to nights where he would get up at midnight to find food, padding down to the kitchen as he goes. He shakes the memory off. That’s part of the reason he hates this place so much; too many memories around every corner.</p><p>Jason sees no sign of Damian as he enters the kitchen, though he does encounter Titus. He’s a lot bigger than he was expecting, and the dog nearly bowls him over.</p><p>“Woah, easy boy!” Jason rubs the dog’s head. “You must be Titus, huh?” The dog obviously doesn’t respond, only wags his tail. Jason turns away as Titus plods off, turning his attention to the sink. It’s piled high with greasy pans, messy plates, water-filler bowls and overturned coffee mugs.</p><p>“Jeez, Dick, did you just call me because you finally ran out of dishes?” Jason says to himself. He shrugs off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves, diving into the sink. He mindlessly rinses dishes and sets them in the dishwasher. He silently curses Damian as he works. If the kid wasn’t such a lazy brat, Jason wouldn’t have to be picking up after him. Also, if Bruce actually cared about his kids enough to be <em>home </em>and take care of them, maybe things would be different.</p><p>Yeah, if that were the case, maybe Jason never would have left in the first place.</p><p>Doesn’t matter now. Jason’s not going to speculate too much on the past. He finishes loading the dishwasher and starts on lunch. He rifles through cabinets trying to ignore the nostalgia that was threatening to make an emergence. The cabinets are pathetically empty, and Jason notes to himself that if he continues helping Dick and Damian out <em>someone</em> will have to buy groceries. It won’t be him. He has not been reduced to an errand-boy. Not yet. Then again, that’s what he said about being desperate enough to come here, and here he was, so he’s not going to think about it too much.</p><p>After taking stock—one can of mushrooms, one can of spaghetti, a can of diced tomatoes, one box of pasta, assorted spices, flour, sugar, coffee, some sugary cereal, a loaf of iffy looking bread, other things of little sustenance, et cetera, et cetera—Jason decides to make pasta because it requires minimal effort.</p><p>He brings the finished product to the parlor.</p><p>“You want to eat here?” Jason asks. Dick looks up from the magazine he was flipping through.</p><p>“You made food? Jason, I can’t believe you. You are the best.”</p><p>“Yeah, well.” Jason grumbles.</p><p>“No, let’s eat in the dining room. I think I can get there. Will you get Damian? I want to eat with my family all together.”</p><p>“You are insufferably sentimental.” Jason says.</p><p>“Thanks, Jay!” Dick says with far too much enthusiasm. “Damian should be in his room. Three doors before your old room.” Jason stiffens a bit. Right. Time to go get the kid.</p><p>He finds the hall he is looking for, and pauses by Damian’s door. He looks over at the entry to his old room, foreboding in its dark wooden frame, and he passes by Damian’s room. He hesitates with his hand over the knob, then pushes his way in.</p><p>The room is dark, dust hanging in the air along with feelings of the old days. He flicks on the light switch, marveling at his place of teenage dwelling. His bed was made, his dresser not as dusty as it should have been. Alfred must clean in here every once in a while. He looks at his bookshelf, and pulls a book off. Pride and Prejudice. He remembers reading this. Dick had teased him about it, and he had buried the book amidst his other novels. From then on he only read it at night. He loved this book.</p><p>You might not guess it about him, but he still does. He sets it aside. He’ll take it home tonight. He runs a hand over his headboard, remembering leaning on it, knees tucked to his chest on his first nights here. He had been so taken in by the size and splendor of everything during the day, but night it had been overwhelming.</p><p>Jason opens the closet. His clothes are still hanging on the racks, as if they were waiting for him. Maybe they were, waiting for him to come back to the life he’d sworn not to return to. He closes the doors bitterly. Time to go get Damian.</p><p>They settle in at the table, passing the bowl of pasta around.</p><p>“Thank you for being here, Jason.” Dick says warmly.</p><p>“I’m only here so I can make fun of your pathetic ass.” Jason says crossly. Dick, to his irritation, laughs.</p><p>“Sure thing, Jay-Jay.”</p><p>“Yes, and how long until you leave us?” Damian says thinly.</p><p>“That depends, you going to do your own work?” Jason levels him with a stare, which Damian returns.</p><p>“Very well, you can stay for a while.” Damian says, looking away. “Though you make a poor Pennyworth.” He says, eyeing the food Jason made.</p><p>“Shut up, brat.” Jason snaps.</p><p>“Grayson, why did you bring this disrespectful oaf into our household?”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m leaving as soon as possible.” Jason and Damian glare at each other.</p><p>“Guys, guys!” Dick breaks in with a nervous smile. “Let’s not fight. Can I please enjoy this meal with both of my brothers not fighting?”</p><p> “I’m not your brother.” Jason insists. “And he started it.” He jerked a thumb at the kid sitting across from him.</p><p> “Jason, Jason, of course you’re my brother.” Jason looks down at his food. He doesn’t really want to hash this out with Dick right now. They can agree to disagree, and fight it out later when Dick looks a little less like a mummy and more like his normal, disagreeable self.</p><p> He changes the subject. “So, why exactly isn’t Bruce here taking care of his sons?”</p><p>“He’s overwhelmed at WE.” Dick says. “Like I said, this whole Drake-Wayne deal is taking a ton of his time. There’s a lot of details he’s being required to coordinate. The Drake part of that deal isn’t making things any easier.” Jason could not believe his luck; Dick had gone straight to what he wanted to talk about without Jason even having to prompt.</p><p>“The Drakes?”</p><p>“Yeah. They’re our neighbors, actually. I haven’t met them much, but they seem like a handful. The wife is super intense. Bruce isn’t very fond of her, but she runs the show and he really wants this research to be conducted, so he’s pushing through. The husband seems like a nice guy, but he lets his wife—Janet—push him around. Anyway, Mrs. Drake keeps making these ridiculous demands, and Bruce is negotiating. He’s talked about throwing the whole deal away, but he thinks he can break through. After all, who can out-stubborn Bruce?” Dick laughs, and Jason smiles mirthlessly. Janet sounds exactly like what Jason had imagined. Really, it’s a wonder Tim turned out alright.</p><p>“So Bruce is dealing with this woman, and he’s at his wit’s end, but he has all this other work to deal with, so…” Dick makes a helpless gesture. “You know how he gets.” Then he winces, looking at Jason as if he expects him to react badly to that. Jason <em>does </em>know exactly how Bruce gets, but he is more focused on finding out all that he can about the Drakes right now.</p><p>“Say,” Jason tries. “Don’t the Drakes have a kid?”</p><p>“Do they?” Dick asks. He furrows his brow, thinking back. “I can vaguely picture that. No, wait! I remember now! Timothy, I think. I met him at one of Bruce’s party things. He was quiet. I remember his parents bragging that Timothy was a musician.” So it was true. Tim’s parents were wealthy, obnoxious, and Jason’s so-called family’s neighbors. Okay. Jason sat back. He’s not sure what to do with this information now.</p><p>“Why, Jay?”</p><p>“Uh…” Jason stalls for a second. What does he say? I’m living with said son and we hang out and watch movies, but Tim is losing his mind because his mom is driving him like a workhorse, so Jason was snooping to see what he could find out about her? Also, Tim is the first person that Jason has cared this deeply about in a long time? Maybe not.</p><p>“Jason?” Dick says curiously.</p><p>“No reason.” Dick looks unconvinced, and Damian looks suspicious, but Jason doesn’t care.</p><p>“I should get going.” Jason says with a big breath. He collects the dishes from Dick and Damian, and drops them off in the kitchen. “Catch you losers later.”</p><p>“Bye, Jason. Come back tomorrow?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jason says, throwing up a hand in dismissal as he walked out.</p><p>Boarding his bike, he thinks that today has been enlightening. Being back at the manor still makes Jason feel mildly nauseous and rather angry, but he would count today as a win. Sure, he feels like a little bit of a stalker, but he’s not going to dwell on it.</p><p>The cold air seeps through his clothing as he drives through town, but he is too busy trying to remember if he ever met the Drakes when he was living with Bruce for a time. He doesn’t think so; he’s pretty sure he’d remember them. Then again, he meets a lot of jerk-faced rich people whenever he’s around Bruce. He seriously doesn’t understand how Tim turned out so nice.</p><p>As he’s pulling off the main road to get to the apartment, it starts to drizzle. Great. He speeds up so he can avoid the downpour, but the dark sky swollen with clouds has other ideas for him. He is a little bit drenched when he lets himself in. Tim is unsurprisingly playing his violin, but he looks at Jason in shock when he enters, water droplets all over his helmet, he practically dripping with water. To make matters worse, he’s started shivering. It was definitely not a summer monsoon out there; more like the sky tossing frigid buckets of water down upon the already miserable streets of Gotham.</p><p>“Jason, oh my god.” Tim says, setting his violin down. “What—where—are you—” Tim looks terribly concerned, if only perhaps because Jason’s creating a puddle on his floor, but the sentiment is still nice. “Let me get you a towel while you go get some dry clothes.” Jason smiles at him, fighting his chattering teeth.</p><p>“Thanks.” Tim hurries over to get him a towel while Jason abandons his shoes and coat. Tim meets him with a fluffy towel and directs him towards the bathroom.</p><p>“Shower. Can’t have you getting sick.” Tim says, handing him a stack Jason’s clothes.</p><p>“You’re a godsend.” Jason says, and locks himself into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he is no longer frigid, clothed in pajamas, and rubbing a towel over his head. “Thanks, Tim.” Jason says, as he comes out.</p><p>“Where were you?” Tim asks. “The forecast said it was supposed to pour today.”</p><p>“Did it?” Jason shrugged. “I didn’t check. I was…” Once again today, he is not quite sure how to explain. His family life and his life with Tim are very separate, and that’s how he’s content for them to stay. “I was doing a favor for an old friend.”</p><p>“Oh.” Tim says like he can tell it’s not quite the whole truth. That’s alright, Jason’s not going to spill. “Well, since I wasn’t sure what time you’d be back, I made food. There’s enough for you in the fridge.”</p><p>“Cool. Thanks, kid.”</p><p>“You know,” Tim says, as he picks up his violin. “You’re going to have to stop calling me kid. I <em>am </em>a legal adult and you’re barely two years older than me.” Jason laughs.</p><p>“Maybe I’ll stop calling you kid if you ever grow over five foot two.”</p><p>“I am <em>not </em>five foot two.” Tim says huffily. “I’m five foot five.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, that’s <em>much</em> better.” Jason snorts, gloating in his whole six feet of height.</p><p>“Whatever.” Tim rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile in his expression.</p><p>Jason retreats to the kitchen to grab food. He eats at the counter, listening to the plaintive tune swelling from the other room. Tim’s gotten really good. Jason is impressed with how quickly he picked up the pieces he was studying. They’re really coming together now, Jason can tell. Tim plays with lightning speed and his pitch is ultra-precise. Jason’s fingers tap along to the rhythm of the song as he eats.</p><p>Tim’s auditions are closer than ever, and even though he’s not the one auditioning, he feels the tension. He’s not nervous, per se, but he can sense the weight the event has on the atmosphere around him. If it’s stressing him out, he can’t imagine how Tim must feel.</p><p>He doesn’t have to imagine much, as it’s easy to tell just looking at Tim. His posture is stooped, showing his tiredness. His eyes have dark circles under them, despite Tim usually going to bed at a reasonable hour. Tim must not be sleeping well. Jason knows he isn’t. He stays up for hours staring at his ceiling wondering what he is going to do next when Tim leaves. Each day that passes weighs more on him. The longer he stays the more attached he feels to Tim and their routine here. When did he get so damn dependent on someone else? He is Jason Todd, and he does <em>not </em>need anybody else. That’s what he keeps trying to convince himself, at least.</p><p>He wishes he believed it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm excited to finally have Dick and Damian here! I love writing the dynamic between them all, and this story has been too long without them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Falling (ill)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry I've been MIA for so long ;~; School has been a lot. Thanks for staying tuned through it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rain had ceased by the time Jason was planning on leaving the next day. He stops by a grocery store and picks up a few easy foods that he can carry easily on the bike. He then drives back out the Manor and knocks. There is a longer wait than the day before, and when the door finally opens, Jason finds Dick, leaning heavily on a crutch. His shoulder bandages are paired with bandages around his left leg.</p><p>“Hey, Jay.” Dick says, looking a little ashen. “Damian’s got the flu, so I had to get the door.”</p><p>“You look like hell.” Jason says, pushing past him.</p><p>“Hah. Kind of feel like it too.” Dick says with a thin smile. “Leg doesn’t bother me so much until I try to do stuff on it. Can’t wait to get back to the trapeze.” Oh, yeah. His adopted brother was a circus freak who liked walking on his hands for fun. Why Bruce ever saw him and thought, “This is the kid I want to adopt,” is beyond Jason.</p><p>Dick moves to lead the way back to the parlor, but he stumbles and has to catch himself on a hall table bearing a lamp and a small sculpture. He upsets the structure, nearly knocking both things off.</p><p>“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Jason says, and moves to Dick’s side. He grabs one of his arms and puts it over his shoulder so he can help the older man hobble along. “You’re pitiful.”</p><p>“Thanks, Jay-Jay.” Dick laughs a little breathlessly. Jason drops Dick off at his chair, and sits on the edge of another as Jason gets settled.</p><p>“So, Damian’s sick?” Jason says.</p><p>“Yeah, he’s got the flu.” Dick says sadly. “Poor kid; I can’t do much for him like this, so I’m really glad you’re here.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, what would you do without me?”</p><p>“He’s up in his room. He needs food, but something light. If you could do that, I’ll be in your debt, Jay.” Dick says, making a puppy-dog expression that shouldn’t be feasible for a man of his age and size.</p><p>“You seriously better start paying me.” Jason says, standing.</p><p>“Thank you, Jason.” Dick grins at him. Jason grumbles again, brushing off his gratitude. He doesn’t really know why he’s helping out here. He’d admittedly feel a little bad if he left Dick and Damian in their sorry states, but not too bad. He <em>is </em>still pretty resentful. </p><p>Still, he swings by the kitchen to look for meds and knocks on Damian’s door before moving inside. The kid is bundled up under several layers of blankets, his nose adorably red and his grumpy glare not as effective when he’s cuddled up with Titus dwarfing him at his feet.</p><p>“Todd.” The boy croaks.</p><p>“Hey, brat.” Jason says, opening the medicine bottle. “Open up. I brought medicine.” Damian looks distrustful, but he complies. Jason suspects it is only because he feels too ill to do otherwise. “If I make soup, are you going to throw it right back up, or can you stomach it?”</p><p>“I assure you I am fine.” Damian says.</p><p>“Sure you are.” Jason grabs a thermometer and shoves it in Damian’s mouth before he can protest. Damian moves to spit it out, but Jason holds his jaw so it stays. Eyes widening, Damian makes a muffled noise of protest. Then, Jason backs off, checking the temperature.</p><p>“Yup, definitely a fever.”</p><p>“Todd! I demand you leave right now!” Damian says, wounded.</p><p>“Make me.” Jason says, intentionally irritating, as he knows Damian can’t do a damn thing. “I’ll bring you something to eat. Don’t go anywhere.” He smirks, knowing Damian probably wants to stab him right now.</p><p>He hums to himself as he prepares a light soup. He has to laugh at the wretched state of his “family” if they have to rely on him for help and food. If he were them, he sure wouldn’t trust himself not poison his brothers. Then again, Dick has always been ridiculously good-natured and overly trusting, so he’s not too surprised Dick has welcomed him back.</p><p>He drops by Damian’s room first, handing him the soup. Damian tuts but accepts the food. Jason whisks back downstairs and grabs a bowl for Dick and himself. He joins the man in the parlor.</p><p>“This looks good Jason.” Dick says with a happy hum. He’s so overbearingly pleased all the time that it makes Jason want to smack his head on a door frame.</p><p>He settles in nearby, eating quietly. It doesn’t last long. Dick keeps looking at him, and it is only a few minutes before Dick breaks into conversation. </p><p>“So, Jay-Jay, what’s been going on with you?” He asks, and Jason gives him a thin look.  </p><p>“Really, Dick, we’re going to do small talk?”</p><p>“You haven’t been home in <em>forever, </em>Jason. Last I heard you were just getting your band together. I tried to keep up with the news on you guys, but I stopped hearing anything after a while.” Jason sighs. “What’s going on with you guys?”</p><p>“Why do you even care what I do, Dick-head?”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I? You are my brother.”</p><p>“Sure I am. Just because it says so in some city records doesn’t make it true.” The expression Dick makes is so crestfallen that Jason almost feels bad. “The band’s not together anymore.”</p><p>“What? Why not? Since when?” Dick says, surprise flitting across his face.</p><p>“It’s a long story. Since about a month ago.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dick says, giving him a sympathetic look. “Music wasn’t working out for you anymore?”</p><p>“No, it’s not that.” Jason says, absently sloshing his soup around in his bowl. “Roy, he almost overdosed.”</p><p>“Roy did?” Dick shoots up. “Roy Harper?”</p><p>“Yeah. It was a close call. He barely made it. Now he’s in rehab and the band is off until he’s better. Kori went back home for a while.” Jason feels a heaviness drape itself over him, and a familiar despair settles over him. He clears his face, trying for neutrality so Dick can’t read what’s going on in his head.</p><p>“God, Jay, I’m so sorry. How are you doing?”</p><p>“How the hell do you think?” Jason snaps.</p><p>“Sorry. Stupid question.” Dick takes a moment to stir his stew, looking contemplative.</p><p>“Where are you staying now? I thought you were living with Roy and Kori.”</p><p>“I was. I’m not now. I’m staying with…” Jason pauses. He gets an inexplicable urge to tell Dick everything; starting with meeting Tim to moving in with him to his new founded capability for emotions. He thinks Dick might understand. But telling Dick would be opening up in a way Jason’s not really comfortable with, giving Dick a power over him, so he refrains. “With a friend.” Ha. If only it were that simple.</p><p>“I’m glad you’ve got somewhere.” Dick says.</p><p>“Yeah, well, me too, for as long as it lasts.”</p><p>“How do you mean?” Jason hadn’t really meant to add the last bit, but now he has to explain.</p><p>“The guy I’m staying with is leaving in a couple weeks. He’s got some big thing going on. He won’t be back.” Dick stares at him curiously, and Jason silently curses Dick’s knack for reading people, because he <em>knows </em>Dick can see into his brain like his thoughts were written across his face. Dick purses his lips but doesn’t pursue it like Jason thought he would.</p><p>“And do you have somewhere to go after?”</p><p>Jason looks away.</p><p>“Why didn’t you say something? You know you can stay here. You’re always welcome.” Dick says, so genuinely that Jason almost wants to believe him.</p><p>“Yeah, right. Why don’t you check with <em>Daddy </em>before you decide who can stay here and who can’t?” Jason says venomously.</p><p>“Come on, Jay, you know Bruce would welcome you back if you decided to come home.”</p><p>“This <em>isn’t </em>my home.” Jason hisses. “And, no, Bruce wouldn’t. You know the whole reason I left in the first place. He doesn’t <em>approve</em>,” Jason makes air quotes with his fingers, “of the way I live my life. Which is fine. I don’t give a crap what he says I can and can’t do. If he doesn’t like what I’m doing, then fine. I won’t do it around him.”</p><p>“Jason—”</p><p>“Look, Dick, it’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>Dick shakes his head. “Not talking about it and it being fine are two very different things. I know you think you and Bruce fell out because you were incompatible or whatever, but he still loves you. He just wanted to help you.”</p><p>“Sure he did. That’s why he was always yelling at me and taking every opportunity to tell me how inadequate I was. ‘Do better, Jason. Be more responsible, Jason. Why can’t you be more like Dick, Jason?’” Jason snarls mockingly. Dick looks flabbergasted.</p><p>“Jason, <em>no</em>. It was never like that!”</p><p>“Easy for <em>you </em>to say, dick-head.” Jason snorts. This conversation is going downhill fast.</p><p>“Jason, whatever reasons you think Bruce had for the way he treated you, I can guarantee you caring about you was number one on his list!” Dick says urgently giving him a look that Jason hates. It looks too much like a pitying, demeaning ‘why can’t you understand?’ that he might give to a temper-tantrum-throwing kid. Jason had to fight the urge to punch Dick, but even he isn’t that mean. Instead, Jason settles his expression on a tight glare.</p><p>“Don’t you dare take his side.” Jason jabs his spoon in Dick’s direction.</p><p>“That’s the problem, Jay. You’re seeing things in sides when it’s not. Bruce thought he knew what was best for you. You did what you thought you had to. We get it. It doesn’t mean you can’t come back. Bruce still misses you.”</p><p>Jason stands abruptly. He storms over to Dick and snatches his bowl away.</p><p>“Look, <em>Dickie-bird</em>. I am not talking about this. I don’t need yours or Bruce’s pity, okay? So just let it be. I don’t need your help!” Jason growls, storming away with the dishes.</p><p>“Jason!” Dick calls after him, but Jason doesn’t stop. He storms up to Damian’s room to retrieve his bowl. He shoves the door open harshly. Damian jolts up, woken up by Jason’s loud entrance. Jason might feel a little bad about that later, but not right now when he’s seeing red. Damian’s expression is bleary and his hair mussed. Jason doesn’t bother explaining to him, only taking his half-eaten meal (better than nothing).</p><p>“Todd?” Jason closes the door behind him louder than necessary. He is letting the whole thing get under his skin. He doesn’t care. He avoids the parlor and storms into the kitchen, aggressively setting the dishes down, enjoying the satisfying noise. Screw this. Screw Dick. He’s not sticking around any longer. Who cares about this stupid family? Not Jason. He’s out of here. He finishes disposing of the dishes and stalks to the main hall. He is grabbing his helmet and throwing on his jacket when he hears noise from behind him.</p><p>Dick is limping down the hall to intercept him. “Jason, wait.” He says tiredly. “Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”</p><p>“To piss me off? What the hell did you think was going to happen when you started talking about Bruce?”</p><p>An expression of remorse flicks over Dick’s face, his eyes clouding. Jason wonders if he is flashing back to the time when Jason stormed out and didn’t come back. Jason is. It feels like serious déjà vu, him grabbing his coat and his things, storming past his family members pleading with him to stay. This time is different. There is no Bruce. There is only Dick, in the sorriest state Jason has ever seen him.</p><p>“Please, Jason. Don’t go. We need you here.”</p><p>“Who, you and Damian? Tell Bruce to get off his ass, stop making me do his work for him, and take care of his family like he’s supposed to. I’m done playing nanny for him.”</p><p>“Yeah, ‘bout that.” Dick says. “Bruce doesn’t entirely know you’re here.”</p><p>“You didn’t <em>tell </em>him?” Jason is so surprised that he halts his hurried exit, hand on the doorknob.</p><p>“No.” Dick rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I haven’t even talked to him for the past couple days.”</p><p>“Wait. Are you telling me Bruce doesn’t even know Damian’s sick?” Dick makes a helpless gesture.</p><p>“I didn’t think I needed his permission to ask my brother for help.” Jason has to admire the brashness of that. After all, doing anything behind Bruce’s back was a big risk, and something so big as inviting Jason back? Jason lets out a bitter laugh.</p><p>“Wow, Dickie-bird. I have to say; I’m impressed. Bruce is going to be so mad.”</p><p>“So?” Dick says, his eyes burning. “If he has a problem, he can take it up with me. Which he won’t.”</p><p>Jason just shakes his head. Dick could be unbelievable.</p><p>“Dick, I can’t stay here.” Jason says, some of the fight leaving his body.</p><p>“Okay, okay, fine, but don’t leave yet. Damian and I <em>do</em> need you here right now.”</p><p>Jason hesitates, hand still on the doorknob, poised to leave. Then, as if triggered by their argument, sounds of someone opening and closing doors quickly.</p><p>“Damian. He’s throwing up again.” Dick says, looking worriedly up the stairs. “Look, Jay. You don’t have to stay. No one can stop you if you don’t want to. But I’d be really grateful if you did. Either way, I better go check on Damian.” Dick starts towards the stairs, each step clearly a struggle for him. Jason stays frozen for a second more.</p><p>Then he bangs his head on the door.</p><p> “Dammit.” He whispers. “Dick, hold on. I’ll go check on him.” He says louder, moving in front of Dick to gently shove him away from the stairs. “Go sit down. A gentle breeze could knock you down.”</p><p>Dick smiles warmly. “Thanks, Jay.”</p><p>“For the love of God, stop thanking me.” Jason says. “I’m not doing this to be nice or <em>helpful.</em>” Jason says. Dick listens to him and heads back in the direction of the parlor. Jason jogs up the stairs to the bathroom. He can hear Damian retching inside. He wrinkles his nose and enters.</p><p>“Hey, kiddo.” Damian glares at him, but is forced to return his attention to the toilet. Jason grabs a cup off the counter and pours some water for the eleven-year-old. He tends to him for the next fifteen minutes, flushing the toilet for him and rubbing his back. He’s pretty surprised to find he knows what to do. He winces when he realized he’s drawing information from a memory when he himself was sick, and Bruce was at his side. Honestly, he had forgotten about the memory until now. He’s not sure what to think about it, memories of Bruce’s large hand on his back lingering in his mind.</p><p>He’s also a little angry. It should be Bruce here beside Damian, not him. What state was their family in if <em>Jason </em>was the best choice for watching over Damian? Very sorry, indeed. Twenty five minutes later, Damian is cleaned up and tucked back into his bed.</p><p>Jason is about to close the door when Damian speaks.</p><p>“Todd.” Jason turns, looking at the boy. He can see Damian’s blue eyes through the darkness. They are the spitting image of his father’s. “I suppose you are bearable.” Jason grins at him. He’s not positive that’s a compliment, but he’ll take what he can get.</p><p>“Right back at ya.” Jason says, and closes the door behind him. He’s calmed down considerably, enough that he thinks he can handle being in the same room with Dick without resorting to violence.</p><p>“Hey, Dickie-bird.” Jason says as he sits down. He leans his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands.</p><p>“Jason! How’s Damian?”                  </p><p>“He’ll be alright.” Jason says. Dick lets out a deep breath and relaxes in his chair.</p><p>“I feel so bad that I can’t help him. I’m really glad that you’re here.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you all would do without me.” Jason agrees.</p><p>“Flounder and die, Jason, flounder and die.” They fall silent in peaceful camaraderie for a little while. Jason is thankful for the silence. It’s easier to be here in the manor and with Dick when he doesn’t have to talk much. For a moment, at least, he can pretend that things are normal and that he belongs here.</p><p>But the hour grows late, so Jason stands, dusting off his knees. “I really should go. My roommate’s probably waiting for me.”</p><p>Dick grins, a mischievous look passing over his face. “What’s his name, Jay?” Jason gives Dick a do-you-really-think-I’m-telling-you-this-so-you-can-look-him-up glance.</p><p>“Goodbye, Dick.”</p><p>“Bye, Jason.” Dick says, voice warm.</p><p>“Damian should be okay for the rest of tonight.” Jason says. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”                       </p><p>“Yay.” Dick says gently.</p><p>“Dork.” Jason grabs his coat from where it had been resting next to him and gets up. He waves at Dick as he exits, and heads back to his bike. Now the air is humid with cold mist drizzling down, not quite like the torrential downpours he faced last time. Still, this kind of precipitation is the kind that just seeps into his clothes and goes everywhere, so he’s still feeling damp and cold when he returns to the apartment. It is not too long before dinnertime, so Tim should be there already. Undoubtedly, he is practicing his violin.</p><p>Sure enough, that’s exactly what Tim is doing when he enters. Tim stops to greet him.</p><p>“You’re all wet again.” Tim says with a shake of his head. “Jason, you’re going to get sick. You should’ve called me and I could’ve picked you up.”</p><p>“Nah, it’s fine.” Jason waves him off. “I’m not going to get sick.” Tim shakes his head again.</p><p>“If you say so, Jason.”</p><p>“I’m going to get dinner going, unless you already ate.”</p><p>“No, I was waiting. I was hoping you would be home in time to eat today.” Jason warms at that, and turns away so Tim doesn’t see him acting like a school-girl. Really, he’s laughable.           </p><p>“Well, good thing, because I’m making the best damn meal you’ve ever had tonight.”</p><p>“Looking forward to it.” Tim says, continuing his work. The kid is tireless, Jason swears.</p><p>Jason is thinking about what to make when he realizes he only has what, seven, eight days before Tim is auditioning and being whisked away. He can count on his fingers the number of meals he has left to make for Tim. So, he decides to go all out tonight. He pulls food out by the armful, firing up the stove and pulling out the cutting board. He dices and sautés, seasons and roasts. By the time he’s done, the kitchen is a bit of a mess but he has a glorious meal prepared. He proudly sets up dishes on the counter, and calls Tim over.</p><p>Jason doesn’t deny to himself that he relishes in Tim’s expression of surprise and delight.</p><p>“Wow, Jason.” Tim says, grabbing a stool. “This looks… really good.”</p><p>“Don’t sound so surprised.” Jason says haughtily. </p><p>“What’s the occasion?” Tim asks suspiciously. He takes a fork and prods at the meal. “This isn’t poisoned, is it?”</p><p>“Aw, come on, Tim.” Jason says. “No occasion. Just wanted to make something good.” Tim doesn’t look quite convinced about the poison thing, so Jason takes a few bites to reassure him. Tim cautiously follows suit, and looks pleased.</p><p>“I’m impressed, Jason. This is good.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, just because I don’t go all out most of the time doesn’t mean I <em>can’t</em>.” Jason says proudly. Tim gives him an amused look. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing. You’re a dork.” Tim says.</p><p>“You’re one to talk, nerd-boy. Shut up and eat.” Tim smiles and shakes his head. And Jason is content. He <em>knows-knows-knows </em>this all coming to end soon, but it’s so hard for him to try to pull away and not enjoy what little time he has left. It’s the least he can do for himself.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Jason wakes up that night to a sense of intense nausea. He jumps out of bed and scrambles to the bathroom just in time to lose the contents of his stomach. Dammit. Curse Damian and his stupid flu and curse Tim for being right about him getting sick. Curse the Gotham weather, curse his body for betraying him.</p><p>He hasn’t turned any lights on, so he sits in the dark heaving over the toilet. Ugh. He hates being sick. As he finally loses the last remains of his dinner, Jason sits back and leans against the wall, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s definitely way too early for anyone to be up. He’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to get to the manor today. Sucks for Dick and Damian, but Jason’s got his own problems now. What a state they were all in.</p><p>A light flicks on in the hall, and he hears footsteps pad lightly towards the bathroom. Tim pokes his head in. His face is a mix of brows upturned in concern and a grimace at the smell, probably.</p><p>“Jason? You alright?” Tim says softly. He looks tired, like Jason woke him up. He probably did. Jason <em>does </em>feel bad about that; if anyone needs their rest, it’s Tim.</p><p>“Yeah. Caught the flu from a friend, I think.” Jason says, closing his eyes. His whole body hurts, just aches from all over. Tim comes over and rests his hand on Jason’s forehead.</p><p>“You’re definitely hot.” Jason wonders if Tim knows how that sounds. He wants to laugh. “You were just vomiting?”</p><p>“Yes. Don’t remind me.”</p><p>“I’ll get water.” Tim disappears, and Jason wishes he were back, because he’s pleasant to be around. And nice to look at. Okay, maybe he’s getting the slightest bit delirious. True to his wishes, Tim returns, carrying a glass of water and moist hand towel. “Here, Jason.” Tim hands both items to him, which Jason accepts gratefully. Thank goodness for roommates. Thank goodness for Tim.</p><p>He swashes water in his mouth, trying to wash away the acrid taste in the back of his throat and permeating his nostrils. He takes a couple swallows too, though his stomach flops in protest. Jason groans.</p><p>“God. Feel like crap.” Tim kindly refrains from saying anything like how he probably looks like crap, too. Tim is too nice.</p><p>Jason is hit with another urge to vomit, and lunges for the toilet again. He doesn’t see Tim, but he can sense him hovering over Jason’s shoulder, already refilling the water. Jason is struck by how his position was reversed. Less than twelve hours ago he was standing in Tim’s position watching over Damian, and now he was the one needing looking after.</p><p>Tim waits patiently for Jason to finish his heaving, then hands him the water and towel again.</p><p>“Thanks.” Jason rasps. “You’re an angel.” Glowing halo and all, Jason thinks, looking up at Tim whose face is silhouetted by the bathroom lights.</p><p>Tim waits with him, refilling his water as needed. He gently takes the towel from Jason’s hand, and takes over with it. Jason feels a little silly being babied like this, Tim careful wiping at his brow, pausing occasionally to feel his temperature.</p><p>He moves to bat Tim hands away, only to find his strength has been seriously zapped, and that Tim effectively ignores him.</p><p>“Tim. Tim, stop.” Jason says. “You’re going to get sick now.”</p><p>“Someone has to take care of you, Jason.” Tim says.</p><p>“But your auditions. You can’t be sick this week.” Tim pauses at that, but he unfreezes quickly.</p><p>“It’s fine, Jason. I don’t mind helping you.” And Jason does not mind being helped by Tim. That in itself was monumental. Jason tries so hard to avoid ever needing or accepting help, but somehow with Tim, Jason is okay with just letting him in.</p><p>Jason’s stomach seems to have settled after half an hour with no more activity. Tim stays with him the whole time, despite Jason insisting he should go to bed and get some rest. Jason decided he is steady enough to leave the bathroom. He tries to stand, and nearly falls right back down. Where had that dizziness come from?</p><p>Tim helps him, and Jason shakes his head when he asks if he wants to go back to Jason’s bedroom.</p><p>“Sofa. I’m going to try and watch a movie.” Tim helps Jason settle in on the sofa across from the TV, handing him a remote. He bustles around, getting water for Jason, a blanket, cold towel for his forehead. “Thanks, Doctor Drake.” Jason jokes feebly. God, is he tired. But he’s enjoying watching Tim hurry around too much. Tim gives him a wry look and hands him the DVD case.</p><p>“What do you want to watch?”</p><p>“Mmm, you pick.” Jason says. His whole body feels so warm yet cold at the same time, and he’s so tired that he desperately wants to sleep but uncomfortable enough that he can’t. He shifts restless as Tim gives a sigh and flips through the disks.</p><p>“I have no idea what half of these are.” He confesses.</p><p>“S’okay. I like all of them. I like your face.” Jason says, then stiffens. Did he <em>really </em>just say that out loud? Please let Tim have not heard that. Judging by the slightly amused expression on his face, Tim did, in fact, hear. “Sorry.” Jason groans, turning to bury his face in the sofa cushions. “I have no idea what I’m saying. I think it’s the fever.”           </p><p>“That’s definitely possible.” Tim says, looking like he’s trying not to laugh.</p><p>“Please don’t listen to me.” Jason says, his face flushing. It’s because of the fever, it’s because of the fever, Jason tries to psychically communicate. He hopes Tim buys that. Tim goes back to flipping through the DVD case, pulling one out after a minute. He slides it into the player and gets it started for Jason. Jason doesn’t recognize it by the start menu, but he’s enjoying the amount of action. The lead actor is a nice-looking guy with raven hair and blue eyes. Jason enjoys watching him as movie goes on.</p><p>Now that he thinks about it, the lead kind of looks like Tim. Jason looks over at Tim, who is sitting in a chair nearby, curled with his knees to his chest, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he watches the TV. For whatever reason, Tim decided he’d rather stay up with Jason than go back to get the sleep he obviously needs. Jason doesn’t quite understand what the logic for that was, but he’s thrilled. Tim looks so peaceful, his expression quiet and calm.</p><p>Jason can’t quite look away. He can see past Tim out the apartment window: the Gotham skyline underlining a star-freckled sky. The moon is out and bright, and it casts its early-morning glow through the window and over Tim, washing him in a crystalline light that showcases his flawless skin. Jason is being sappy and poetic, but he can’t stop himself from noticing that Tim’s eyes are a stunning dark blue when they aren’t brightly lit, like a deep tropical ocean—fair, Jason thinks, because Tim is a calm hiding a whirling tempest—and then it hits Jason all at once.</p><p>Everything he’s been feeling and thinking for the past few weeks, the way he acts around Tim, how he can’t stop himself from glowing inside whenever Tim compliments him. It’s the protectiveness that grips his chest, the lightness that seems to fill him from head to toe, and the sadness that stabs at him like a knife whenever he thinks about Tim leaving. Shit. <em>Shit-shit-shit. </em>Jason can’t breathe. He’s panicking, he can’t think, can’t move, can’t function, because Jason Todd is in love with Tim Drake.</p><p><em>Shit</em>.</p><p>Jason is frozen. He can’t remember how to breathe. He can’t remember how to speak. He is in love. How did this happen? How did Jason let himself get so attached? Jason <em>knows </em>with absolute certainty that getting close to someone only leads to getting hurt, so why did he let himself get this deep? Jason is still staring at Tim, and now that he’s realized what that rush he feels every time he looks at the younger man is, it feels stronger, more powerful.</p><p>Jason Todd is in love with Tim.</p><p>It feels like flying. Jason feels like his insides are soaring, because every second with Tim is one that makes him a little less like the assholey person he thinks he is and more like a semi-decent person who might actually be bearable to be around. He feels like he could jump off a roof and rise up to the moon instead of plummeting down to earth. Jason feels young, childish, and he wants jump and shout and pick Tim up and twirl him around because <em>he’s in love </em>and it feels like infinity within his own body.</p><p>Then, it comes crashing down. No. <em>No, no, no. </em>Jason can’t be in love, because it will never, ever work. There are so many reasons that dictate that this cannot work. Jason feels despair quickly replace his euphoria. It rises up in a swift tide within him, drowning his momentary elation in thick, sticky black webs, because he can’t even count all the things going against him.</p><p>He wants to cry all of a sudden.</p><p>Tim would never, ever want someone like Jason. <em>Never</em>. Why would he? Jason is a selfish, unscrupulous, poor man who has nothing to offer Tim. Where Tim gives him freedom and a place to stay, Jason gives Tim an extra burden to bear, an extra person taking up Tim’s time and space. Where Tim gives Jason a pure and bright spot of existence, Jason gives Tim a plethora of problems and not to mention Jason’s own array of issues. Where Tim is wonderful and delightful and unique, one-of-a-kind, Jason is just like every other person on the streets. He has nothing to offer Tim that someone better couldn’t give to him. He has nothing worth saying that Tim wouldn’t rather hear from someone else.</p><p>Stephanie, perhaps. Jason isn’t blind, and he knows Tim isn’t either. It’d be impossible not to notice Stephanie’s beauty. He’s certain Tim would much sooner display interest in her than him. He doesn’t even know Tim’s sexuality! Odds are, Tim being the person Jason has observed him to be, he’s as straight as an arrow. Lucky Jason. Even if Tim was <em>bi, </em>he saw the way Stephanie and Tim interacted. He remembers Stephanie throwing her arms around Tim in a hug, which Tim looked far from unhappy about. He realizes now that it was <em>jealousy </em>he felt that night. It hurts knowing that there is someone out there who was far better for Tim than Jason.</p><p>Really, what did Jason do for Tim? He cooked once in a while, reminded Tim not to work himself to death, and occasionally picked out movies. Nothing that a <em>smartphone </em>couldn’t do better, let alone a decent person. Stephanie could take his place with ease. Jason has no choice but to accept that. He’s going to be hurt no matter what he does.</p><p>Jason is still staring at Tim. He doesn’t want to move ever. He doesn’t want this moment to break, because once it does they will never be able to put the shards back together. He is in love with Tim, and he is going to lose him. He knows this.</p><p>He also knows he can <em>never </em>tell Tim how he feels. He can’t face that kind of rejection face to face. Maybe that makes him a coward. Fine. Jason can live with being a coward. What he can’t live with is opening his heart to Tim and seeing Tim turn away. Sure, he might be gentle about it, his face apologetic when he has to tell Jason, no, he doesn’t feel that way, but each kind smile will be just as bad threading barbed wire through his heart. Jason cannot put this weight on Tim. He can’t distract Tim from the future hovering just over the horizon. It is far better for Tim to never know and let Jason fade from memory than to force Jason’s unwanted feelings onto him. Tim has enough to deal with, he doesn’t need some stupid guy who’s foolishly smitten. He can’t—won’t do that to Tim.</p><p>Jason feels like every muscle in his body has seized up, he can’t move. He’s dizzy—probably from not breathing but also from this realization. How can he go on? How can he keep moving onwards now that he knows exactly how he feels about Tim? He can’t do anything the same way. No more sitting on the sofa together for movies, no more playful jibes and smiles being passed back and forth. It’s over, and it never really even began.</p><p>Finally, Jason takes a wracking breath. God, he feels miserable. As if being sick wasn’t enough, now his mind, body, and heart are all aching with competing strength. This isn’t the goddamn pain Olympics, Jason wants to scream. Another bout of nausea threatens to rise up, and Jason shifts uncomfortable. He wishes he didn’t instantly, as Tim turns to focus on him. Jason is <em>not </em>ready to deal with Tim yet. He needs to figure out how he is going to survive these next few days without dying/crying/spilling his feelings. He has no time to compose himself, and although he doesn’t know what Tim sees playing across his face, he knows it isn’t pretty.</p><p>“Jason? Do you need to go back to the bathroom?” Jason opens and closes his mouth. He can’t get himself to form words. Damn Tim, and the effect he has on him. Jason was never like this before this stupid kid. “Jason?” Tim stands, moving to his side to put a hand on his forehead. Dammit, dammit, dammit.</p><p>“I’m fine.” Jason barely manages. Tim looks at him incredulously.</p><p>“You don’t look very fine.”</p><p>“I’ll let you know if I need…” Jason can’t even finish. He feels like his heart has risen up in his throat, blocking the words he’s trying to force up. “I’m okay.” He finishes lamely.</p><p>“Okay. You better. I don’t want you throwing up on my nice sofa.” Tim jokes. Jason can’t find it in himself to smile right now when his emotions are tearing him apart from the inside. He is sure that Tim will play it off to his illness, though, so it’s okay. To his dismay, Tim settles in on the sofa next to him instead of going back to his chair. Jason can’t move a muscle, not a twitch going through him. His heart is telling him to pull Tim close and run his hands through the kid’s long hair. His mind is telling him to get up and run away, taking his odds with the late autumn weather.</p><p>Instead, he does nothing. Tim doesn’t lean on him or anything (Jason doesn’t think he could take it if he did). He just scooches about on his side of the sofa, leaning on the armrest. Jason can’t watch him discreetly from his new position, so he has to turn back to the movie.</p><p>Watching it is pointless. He lost track of the plot when he started staring at Tim, and he can’t really focus on him when Tim’s presence is like a beacon next to him, ever present on his peripheral. How the hell is he supposed to even function like this? The movie is an agonizing thirty minutes longer, and each glance at the main actor is like being jabbed with a pin; not fatal but painful and extremely distracting.</p><p>Then, finally, it is over. Jason jumps up, stumbling in his scramble to retreat. Tim catches him before he has an early meeting with the floor, straining under Jason’s large mass.</p><p>“Woah, Jason!” Tim says, helping Jason straighten out. Curse his illness to the deepest pits of hell. Jason tries not to flinch when Tim touches him. <em>More</em>, his heart says. <em>Stop</em>, his brain says. He can’t do this, he can’t do this. If he has to live like this for much longer, he’s going to put a bullet in his head. That much, he’s certain of. This has to stop.</p><p>“Bed.” Jason growls.</p><p>“Okay.” Tim says, guiding him along. He comes into Jason’s room, helping Jason shuffle along to his bed. Jason curls up under his comforters. “If you need anything, Jason, just wake me up.” Jason grunts in response. What he needs now is to sleep and not wake up until he’s figured this out. “Good night.” Tim says, too damn nicely.</p><p>“Night.” Jason huffs, rolling so his back is to the door. He thinks Tim is probably shaking his head. Then the door closes, and Jason is alone. Blessedly and terribly alone. He’s not sure what comes next, but whatever it is, Jason is positive he’s not ready for it. Goodness help them both.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I keep splitting big chapters into more chapters... I swear we're making progress towards the end! Now, an interaction that's been overdue.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason is acting weird. Tim isn’t sure what’s wrong with him, but since the night where he got the flu, he’s been abnormally reserved. The illness stayed with him for only another day before Jason was up on his feet again. Tim was glad, because he kind of missed seeing Jason out and about in the apartment instead of bedridden. However, as soon as Jason was well enough to move about, he took the opportunity to vanish. He threw out some excuse about needing to check up on his friends—whose existence Tim is mildly suspicious about—and he didn’t come back until late that night. It becomes a pattern. He rushes out of the apartment at the earliest possible moment each day, and isn’t back until late. He isn’t eating meals with Tim anymore, save for the occasional breakfast where Tim gets up early enough to have a plate of food already ready for Jason by the time he gets up. When that happens, he can force Jason to stay and eat, but it doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t want to <em>corner </em>Jason, he wants to hang out with him while he still can. He thought they were mutually enjoying each other’s company. When had that changed? Was that his fault? Had he said something that pushed Jason away? Or had he overestimated Jason’s investment in their friendship?</p><p>Something had obviously changed when Tim wasn’t looking, and now Tim is reeling trying to figure out what gave way. He misses Jason; he’s not afraid to say. He knew he was going to have to leave him behind, but this feels like an early departure. Tim wants to sit Jason down and yell, “<em>why are you avoiding me</em>?” but he obviously knows that yelling would never work, and Jason wasn’t really a talking kind of guy, unfortunately.</p><p>Tim doesn’t have the time to track him down, either. Auditions are a week away. Tim is in the final stretch. His music has come together nicely, and now all that’s left is to polish and perfect it. The pressure is so high that at times Tim just wants to crumple. But he is a fighter, and he’s not going to let stress be the end of him, so he pushes on. Practices extend into most waking hours. School, socialization, all of it fades into the background. Now it’s just music.</p><p>The extra practice definitely benefits him; he can tell. His music takes on a polished shine as Friday passes and there are only six days left. Jason still avoids him, and he feels the sting of his rejection, or whatever this is, so he immerses himself even deeper into his music. Now that Jason is gone more often than not, Tim neglects the things he was careful about when he was there. He sometimes skips two out of three meals a day, works too long with too little rest, and adapts an unhealthy sleep schedule. After all, what point is there to constantly getting up at eight and going to sleep at eleven when there is no one waiting to have meals at the same time, and when the only time he and Jason interact is when Jason comes back? He’ll briefly greet Tim and then lock himself away in his bedroom. Tim gives a sigh thinking about it. If Tim was looking at himself from the outside, he might say he’s depressed. He’s certainly anxious.</p><p>He has too many things stressing him out right now. He’s just glad he won’t be facing any major surprises in the next few days. Now isn’t the time for distractions. After all, the competition day is almost here. What could happen between now and then?</p><p>As it turns out, a lot.</p><p>Tim is practicing—per norm—when a brisk knock sounds on the door. Tim pauses. It won’t be Jason, unless he left his key behind, and he isn’t expecting anyone. He sets his violin down and goes to answer. He swings the door open—and his heart stops.</p><p>“Hello, Timothy.” His mother brushes past him into the apartment. Oh, please no. No, no, Tim is not ready to deal with this. A dozen different panicked thoughts jump around in his head like rabbits. Why is she here? What is she going to say about Jason? Tim has to remind himself to keep his breathing under control as visions of doom and danger flash through his mind.</p><p>“Mom.” Tim says, fighting to keep his voice level. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Checking on you, obviously. I need to know that you’re prepared for auditions. They are awfully close, you know.” He knows that. He knows.</p><p>“Why didn’t you call ahead?”</p><p>“I don’t need to announce myself in a big fuss to visit my son, do I?” she says like it should be evident.</p><p>“Well, no, but just one call would have been nice.” Tim follows her around as she makes herself comfortable. He keeps glancing at all the evidence of Jason all around his place. There are too many pairs of shoes by the door to be for just him, one of Jason’s jackets is draped on the side of a chair, and for Pete’s sake there are two guitars on the wall. Two. His mom isn’t stupid. Nevertheless, she doesn’t say anything about it, but Tim is just waiting for the background details to click.</p><p>“So?” She puts her hands on her hips. “Let’s see the pieces you’ve been working on.”</p><p>“Nice to see you too, Mom.” Tim says, but he goes to his music corner anyway. He picks up the violin and flips to the first page of his sheet music. He plays, doing his best to put it at performance level. He can feel the heaviness of his mom’s eyes on him, evaluating. He can picture what she’s thinking: shape that phrase more, make sure Timothy watches his posture, don’t let that boy slack off too much, watch the dynamics there. It’s wearing greatly on his already highly frayed nerves.</p><p>He runs through the first piece; a classical composition from the early 1800’s. Then he looks to his mom. Her face is passive. He stifles a sigh and forces himself not to slump his posture. He should know better by now than to expect explicit praise from her until the final product was perfect. It’s not that she never expressed her pride in him, but usually not until she was sure Tim had given his absolute all.</p><p>“Well, Timothy, you’ve got a solid base. But don’t you think the dynamics in the third movement could be better expressed?” Yup, there it is.</p><p>“Maybe.” Tim says, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.</p><p>“Timothy.” His mom snaps. “Focus. The dynamics. Let’s hear the third movement again.” And so he’s facing his mom, the drill sergeant, again.</p><p>They run through Tim’s music, his mom critiquing each piece. Admittedly, she makes a few good points that Tim hadn’t put into consideration, but he can’t help being rubbed the wrong way. His mother wouldn’t be so unbearable if she wasn’t so… snooty about it. Each tip she gives him is coupled with a shake of her head like Tim should know this by now, or with a raised eyebrow betraying her frustration at having to make corrections. How about a “nice job pulling this much together in so little time?” What’s wrong with a, “thanks for dropping your social life on a moment’s notice to do this thing I have determined you want to do?” So, yeah, Tim’s a little bitter. He’s bound to respond badly at some point.</p><p>“Mom, it’s getting close to dinnertime. I’m going to start cooking.” Tim says, putting his violin back in its case. “Are you leaving?” Please be leaving. Please be leaving.</p><p>“Of course not!” She laughs. “I’m staying here tonight. I’ll use the guest bedroom.” Tim winces visibly.</p><p>“Uh, about that.” Tim says. She is already heading towards Jason’s room, so Tim darts around her, blocking his path. “Mom, wait! We need to talk.”</p><p>“Timothy.” She says condescendingly. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Before you plan on staying, there’s something you should know.” Tim says. He’s got to tell her, and now, before—</p><p>From the hall they can hear the sounds of someone unlocking the door. Of course. Of course Jason gets home right now. Tim wants to shake his fist at the forces are controlling them for picking such horrible timing for Jason’s arrival. His mom gets a puzzled expression, and she whisks into the living room as Jason is letting himself in.</p><p>“Tim, I’m back—” Jason stops short when he sees the woman standing stiffly in the middle of the room. He must be able to tell, despite his mom having a good bit of height that Tim doesn’t, that they are related. Aside from the height difference and his mom’s caramel colored hair contrasting with Tim’s darker locks, they are extremely similar. Both have narrow-bridged noses and the same shape of mouth. Her eyes have the same icy tone to them, though hers are a more gray color than Tim’s sparkling blue. Jason’s gaze flicks between the two, eyes widening as he realizes who is standing there.</p><p>“Who are you?” His mother demands. “Timothy?” Everything is falling apart fast. Tim steps around his mom so he’s between them.</p><p>“Meet Jason, Mom. This is my roommate. Jason, this is my mom.” Tim is cringing perpetually inside. This is not how he wanted the first meeting between Jason and his mom to go. Honestly, he would have been very okay if they never met, but he was not quite so lucky. And Jason was hardly at his most pristine.</p><p>His hair was damp, his jacket wet from rain. He looked a little bit like a drowned rat, and if Tim’s mom wasn’t there, he would have scolded Jason for getting soaked after so recently having been sick. Jason looks a little alarmed, like he is unsure how to proceed. Then, he shakes it off and extends a hand.</p><p>“Jason Todd.” Tim’s mom stares at his hand disdainfully, then ignoring it, she turns to Tim.</p><p>“Timothy, if you needed extra money you should have just called me rather than taking in a vagabond boy to help pay the rent.” Tim scoffs and shakes his head. Of course his mother would assume that Tim was only keeping a roommate for the money. He apologizes silently to Jason for his mother’s rude behavior. Jason looks like he is very confused. Knowing Jason, he would normally bite back at such an obvious insult, but the fact that this is Tim’s mother is probably the only thing holding him. Tim is grateful; the last thing he needs is an all-out brawl between the two. But he has to say something to defend Jason.</p><p>Jason doesn’t let them.</p><p>“Tim, I guess I’ll go make dinner.” He says. He looks at Tim, and Tim wishes he could pull him aside to talk more with him. They’ve barely exchanged over a hundred words over the last week, and Tim still has no idea what’s going on with Jason. The look they exchange is more powerful than any chatter they’ve had over the past few days. Tim sees something flash in Jason’s eyes, but he can’t quite decipher it.</p><p>“Thanks, Jason.” Tim is glad Jason is ducking out so he doesn’t have to watch his face as his mother spews her usual venom. She waits for Jason to disappear before turning to Tim disapprovingly.</p><p>“Timothy, why didn’t you consult me before taking on a roommate? And that boy.” Her nose wrinkles. “Look at the state of him. He looks like a ruffian. What is he studying?” Tim wishes his mom wouldn’t ask all the wrong questions.</p><p>“He, uh, doesn’t go to Gotham U.” Kill him, someone please crash through a window and shoot him right now. It would be less painful than this conversation with his mother.</p><p>“He’s an exchange student?”</p><p>“No. He’s between jobs right now.”</p><p>“You mean he’s unemployed?” Her lips purse tightly and her eyebrows arch high into her forehead. “I don’t know what decisions you are making with your life, young man, but I am not sure they are the right ones.” She says, shaking her head.</p><p>“Mom, I am an adult. I can make my own judgements and my own decisions. Those decisions I make included helping Jason. He was in a bad spot and need help, so I helped him. Are you really going to judge me for helping someone who needed it?”</p><p>“Don’t you take that tone, Timothy. I understand you’re young and naïve, but you need to be a little more cautionary before welcoming people into your home.” By the tone of the word people, it is clear that she sooner meant riff-raff. Tim felt his hackles rising in defense of Jason, his closest friend and companion in a time of need. How dare she assume she knew Jason?</p><p>“Jason is a good man!” Tim bit back, looking up angrily at his mother. He realizes right after saying that, of course, Jason can probably hear their entire conversation, and he wishes that he didn’t have to.</p><p>“How long have you known him?” Tim flushes. “How long?” she repeats, a smug expression coming across her face.</p><p>“Two and a half months.”</p><p>“Timothy, Timothy, Timothy,” she says with pity. “When will you learn? You need to stop being so reckless and naïve.” Tim narrows his eyes. “Now, since your friend is making dinner, you and I can get back work.” Tim stares at her, and the contest holds for a moment before Tim buckles.</p><p>“Fine.” He is bitter and resigned.</p><p>He suffers through another half hour of his mother’s endless pointers and notes. When dinner comes, he is desperate for a break. After enough time out of his mother’s house, he forgot how suffocating her presence could be. Jason calls them into the kitchen, and Tim’s eyebrows jump when he sees Jason has put together a classy-looking dish. Trying to impress his mother, it would seem. If Tim wasn’t feeling so fried, he would want to laugh.</p><p>Jason has plates and helps Tim bring them out to the living room so they can dine around the coffee table. It feels weirdly informal for such a tense atmosphere. A long dining table with ominous candlelight would be more appropriate.</p><p>“Well, I’m going to take my dinner to my room so you two can chat.” Jason says, standing.</p><p>“No, please. Stay.” Tim’s mom orders. Tim and Jason exchange a look of bewildered alarm. What does she want now? Tim cannot see this meal ending in any way other than disaster. Jason hesitantly sits back down.</p><p>“So, young man, we were never fully introduced.” She says, looking at Jason. “I am Janet Drake, Timothy’s mother.”</p><p>“Jason Todd.” He replies, wiping his mouth as he said so. Tim watches like he’s seeing a deadly tennis match, watching back and forth for either party to make a mistake.</p><p>“So, Mr. Todd, what do you do?”</p><p>“I’m a musician.”</p><p>“A musician?” She says, and Tim can’t help but be distrustful of her too-bright tone. “What do you play?”</p><p>“The guitar. I’ve been teaching Tim. It’s how we met.” Jason thankfully leaves out the detail about the incident outside of the bar where Tim was almost mugged. He fortunately had enough sense to know that including it was ill-advised.</p><p>“The guitar.” She says. Tim can read the distaste in her eyes. As far as she is concerned, if it wasn’t professional and classical, it wasn’t worth mentioning, Tim knew. He feels his defensiveness of Jason rising.</p><p>“Well, that’s… interesting.” She clips. “You were part of a group?”</p><p>“A band.” Jason says, narrowing his eyes. He isn’t an idiot; he can tell when he is being mocked.</p><p>“And how is that going?” His mother’s voice is poisonously sweet, but Tim doesn’t know how to get her to leave Jason alone. Well, hopefully Jason can handle himself. He’s no wimp, unlike Tim.</p><p>“We’re not playing together now.” Jason says shortly. Clearly, he doesn’t want to discuss it.</p><p>“Oh, and is that why you’ve intruded on my son’s household?”</p><p>“Mom!” Tim says, appalled. “No one is intruding anywhere. I invited Jason, okay?” She purses her lips again, unconvinced.</p><p>There is a hostile silence for a minute. Tim nibbles on his food. It’s good; Jason did a great job, but the tension is making Tim’s stomach roil.</p><p> “So, Mr. Todd, what do you do all day then? Laze around? Watch my son’s television?” Jason’s expression darkens, and Tim begins to worry about his ability to keep it together. It’s just words, he wants to tell him. Don’t listen to her. I like you and that’s all that should matter. But his mother has the scene wrapped around her fingers, and she is in control right now.</p><p>How does she always manage to do that?</p><p>“Honestly, I’m a little surprised.” She presses on. “I thought kids these days were more responsible and didn’t take advantage of other people just because they’re too young to understand that’s what’s being done.” Tim’s jaw drops at the implication, and Jason too looks horrified, shooting a glance at Tim that seemed to say that’s not it at all. Tim knows.</p><p>“Mom, please don’t be rude. Jason is my friend and my guest.” Tim says firmly.</p><p>“I’m not trying to be rude.” She says innocently. “I’m just wondering when you changed your standard for friendship.” Tim wants to stab someone with a fork. How could his mother be so blatantly disrespectful? It’s like she was trying to goad Jason into a reaction. Jason doesn’t give it her. Not yet.</p><p>“<em>Anyways</em>, Mom, what’s going on with you?” Tim says, desperately trying to change tracks before the imminent disaster. His mom narrows her eyes slightly, but allows the subject change.</p><p>“Good business as usual. Your father and I are in the midst of an archeology deal that’ll get us a prime dig spot and top notch supplies. Courtesy of Wayne Enterprises.”</p><p>“Wayne Enterprises? Bruce Wayne’s Wayne Enterprises?” Tim says, unable to deny some surprise at that.</p><p>“That’s right. Bruce and I are negotiating a deal. We should have it settled within the week, as long as that man has enough sense. Which I doubt; it’s rather clear that his party lifestyle is more important to him than his business.” His mom makes a disdainful expression. Tim sees Jason bristle a bit.</p><p>“Well, that’s great.” Tim tries to sound enthusiastic, but this deal will probably mean his parents will be abroad for a while. His mom, he won’t miss too much, but his dad Tim will miss. Jason turns away, looking like he’d really like to get out of there. Tim can second that.</p><p>“Timothy, will you be a dear and wash our plates?” Tim stands, collecting his and his mother’s dishes.</p><p>“Jason, do you want to help me?” Tim tries, but his mom cuts him off quickly.</p><p>“Nonsense. I didn’t raise a boy who can’t even clear three spots on his own.” Tim looks at Jason and gives him an apologetic look. He did try, but his mom wasn’t having it. Tim retreats to the kitchen. He hopes neither his mom nor Jason tears each other apart. He hurries to rinse the dishes.</p><p>He is just finishing up when he hears Jason’s door slam. Tim scurries back to the living room, where his mother is still perched on the sofa regally.</p><p>“What happened? Where’s Jason?” Tim demands. His mother gestures for Tim to sit next to her, but he folds his arms over his chest.</p><p>“Timothy.” She warns, and Tim relents because otherwise she will never tell him anything.</p><p>“What did you say?” Tim accuses. He knew leaving the two of them alone would end badly, he knew it.</p><p>“I didn’t say anything.” She perjured. Tim gives her a look, and she sighs. “I didn’t say anything much. Don’t worry about him. I didn’t say anything other than the truth.” That does little to reassure Tim.</p><p>“Mom—” Tim is interrupted by Jason storming out of his room, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “Jason, what are you—”</p><p>“I’m leaving. I’ll come back for my stuff sometime later. Don’t bother calling.” Jason is grabbing his keys, throwing on his jacket.</p><p>“Jason, wait!” Tim moves to stand, but his mother grabs his wrist, pulling him back. “Jason!” But Jason is gone, closing the door with a loud bang behind him. Tim yanks his wrist out of his mother’s clutches, hurrying after Jason.             </p><p>“Timothy, wait.” His mother commands. Tim whirls around, glaring at her.</p><p>“<em>What</em>?”</p><p>“All I told Mr. Todd was what his future would hold if he continued to associate with you. He wasn’t interested, so he left. He chose to leave, Timothy, do you understand? He doesn’t want to be here any longer.” Tim stood, torn between pursuing Jason and what his mother said. Did Jason really not want to be around him? Was that really what happened?</p><p>“What did you tell him?”</p><p>“I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know. I just connected the dots for him. Now, Timothy, sit down and let him be. If he wants to be left alone, then leave him. You heard what he said.” Tim stares at the door.</p><p>The decision is made for him when he hears the distant rumble of Jason’s bike pulling away from the building. It quickly disappears, and that’s that. Jason is gone.</p><p>Tim sits down in a chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. This is a mess. His mom isn’t here an hour and she manages to drive Tim up the wall, Jason out of the apartment, and still seem cool, collected and in control. Tim lets his head drop into his hands, mussing his own hair. What a train wreck.</p><p>His mom allows him another minute before she prods him to get back to work.</p><p>“You can’t let people bring you down and throw you off your game.” She says sternly. “The show must go on.” Tim looks towards the spot where he last saw Jason. He turns away. The show must go on, and so must he.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Time trickles away faster than Tim would like. Four days becomes three, three crumbles into two, two dissolves into one. Jason doesn’t come back. Tim doesn’t know where he went, and he doesn’t call. Jason left willingly. If he doesn’t want to talk to Tim, Tim doesn’t want to force him to. He wishes he would come back, because life becomes unbearable. Without Jason and without school, Tim has no one but his mother, who has taken up residence in Jason’s room.</p><p>It feels so perversely wrong, for her to be there and for Jason to be gone. Tim thinks about Jason frequently. He wonders if Jason will come back. He hasn’t so far. Tim wonders where he’s staying, if he’s found a job, if he even cares. He has to come back. His guitar is still here. Jason wouldn’t leave that behind, would he?</p><p>He wishes his mother would go back home. She only an hour or so away, so staying at Tim’s apartment is really only a manner of convenience for her and a source of great annoyance to Tim. His pieces are pretty much finished. At this point, anything else he can do is just extra polish and glitter. The auditions are tomorrow. Tim is losing his mind.</p><p>He hasn’t been sleeping right, his meals are sporadic and best and non-existent at worse, and any more effort from him will result in a mental break-down. Jason would’ve helped him. Jason wouldn’t let him do this to himself. But Jason decided to leave probably when Tim needs him the most. The whole situation doesn’t sit well with him. What happened? He spends distracted hours wondering what exactly his mother said to him to make him run. Tim just can’t—won’t accept that what his mother said was true, that Jason didn’t want to be around him anymore. They were friends, really close, weren’t they? Weren’t they?</p><p>The night before the auditions, his mother finally gives him a break, now concerned about making sure he’s in peak condition for tomorrow. The auditions are in Metropolis, so they’ll have a couple hour’s drive to and from.</p><p>“Good bye, Timothy. I’ll be back to pick you up at two, on the dot. Make sure you’ve got everything ready, do you hear me?”</p><p>“Yes, Mom.” Tim says, his voice weary. Get out! He wants to yell. Then, at last, she leaves, and he is truly alone. Tim is tempted to just collapse on the floor right there, but he drags himself onto the sofa. He looks at the TV and contemplates watching a movie, but without Jason beside him it would just feel wrong. Tim closes his eyes and tilts his head back to rest on the back of the sofa.</p><p>This past month has been a whirlwind of activity and preparation, with a vague and hazy event lurking over the horizon. Now, however, it is right upon him, so close he could strain and reach it. Before he was overwhelmed, stressed, scared, and a plethora of other things. Now he is just tired. Tired of fighting his mom every step of the way, tired of missing Jason, tired of wondering what his future holds. He has no energy left to devote to emotion and feelings. Later. Tomorrow, perhaps. But not right now.</p><p>Now, he just lets himself drift off to sleep on the couch. He curls in on himself, thinking about violins, about planes flying to faraway places, and people left behind.</p><p>Hours later, by the time the sun has drifted behind the horizon and the sky is only illuminated by grimy street lights, he wakes again. He stirs groggily, wiping drool from his face. Wow. He knew he was tired, but he didn’t expect to sleep for hours. He gets up, trudges over to his bedroom, strips, and climbs in. He’s exhausted. His brain is just crying sleep-sleep-sleep, and Tim is happy to oblige. His last thought is wondering what Jason is doing at this moment, if he has somewhere decent to sleep.</p><p>Tim hopes that he does.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>The next morning feels too cheery. Sun is streaming through his window, and the sky is clear. It feels off, as if today should be pre-apocalyptic. He didn’t set an alarm—sloppy and potentially disastrous—but he wakes up naturally right around nine—plenty of time to get ready yet. He forces himself to exit to comfort of his blankets and prepare. He showers, scrubs his face, does his hair nicely. His bangs are long and particularly uncooperative today, so he spends an obscene amount of time primping and prepping. Then, he’s making breakfast—nothing fancy, just some decent carbs to keep him functional throughout today. He tunes his violin, runs through a few scales just to get some feeling back in his fingers, and packs it up for travel. He’s memorized his pieces, as requested by the organization sponsoring the competition, so there’s no need for him to bring sheet music. However, they asked for several pieces of paperwork that Tim’s mom printed. They’re mostly filled out, but he finishes them up and looks them over.</p><p>Then he’s packing his bag, watching the clock. It’s barely eleven, so he’s got a bit of time before his mom is here to pick him up. He wishes he was driving himself; it’d probably give himself something to focus on other than the importance of the approaching event. Tim flutters around the apartment for a while.</p><p>Eventually, he settles in with his guitar. It’s been too long since he played, but the things Jason taught him come back easily enough. He plays through a few of the songs he had learned, humming along as he plays. It’s a delightful distraction from his looming task. He plays for maybe an hour before hanging his instrument up. It is not lost on him that once these auditions are over, his time is likely limited in this apartment, because he will be moving on with his career and life. He will certainly miss it, because it’s been his home for a while now, and even just over the last few months he’s built up an array of fond memories here. He’ll be sad to leave it behind. Part of it feels unreal. Is he truly leaving this all behind in a few weeks? Has he really lived his last college days already?</p><p>Lunch is lonely and fills him with anticipation more than a meal. He can’t stop himself from glancing over at the clock several times a minute, watching the clock inch on. Twelve thirty, twelve forty five, one, one thirty all come far too slow for Tim’s interests. He goes and gets changed—crisp red shirt and a tight-fitting black vest—but it barely takes him any time at all. Then, he’s back in the living room, and the pre-performance anxiety hits him harder than it has before. He knows he’s good and he knows he’s going to give it his best and probably do really well, yet his stomach is clenching and he feels mildly nauseous. He feels slightly lightheaded, and his heart beat is fluttery, like it was lightly tap-dancing an arrhythmic beat.</p><p>He needs to get himself together. He runs through a breathing exercise, counting beats in and out. He thinks he’s getting himself under control. Okay. He can do this.</p><p>Then the door opens, and Jason steps in, and Tim’s heart is racing again.</p><p>“Jason!” Tim exclaims, jumping up. “You’re back.” He cannot mask the relief in his voice, which is bad, because he doesn’t want Jason to think that he’s clingy, but he missed Jason, and he’s not going to pretend he didn’t, even if Jason doesn’t want anything to do with him.</p><p>“Hey, Tim.” Jason says in his wonderful gravelly tones. Tim wants to dash over and hug him, but he thinks that would be pushing the limits of okay-ness. “I’m, ah, here to get my things.” He puts a hand on the back of his neck, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “And to wish you good luck.”</p><p>Tim smiles widely. “Thanks Jason. I know you’re probably not staying long, but I’m really glad you’re here. It’s been horrible without you here.” It probably seems like he’s laying it on a bit thick, but he really did miss Jason. Jason scans him, raising his eyebrows. Tim thinks he see a slight pink tint to his cheeks, but he can’t be sure.</p><p>“You look…” Jason can’t seem to find the words, and Tim brushes his bangs back self-consciously.</p><p>“That bad, huh?”</p><p>“No.” Jason says. “You look professional.” He looks Tim up and down. “You look like a damn winner.”</p><p>Tim smiles wanly. “Thanks, Jason. Can I help you? I’m going stir crazy here by myself waiting.” </p><p>Jason shrugs. “Sure. Whatever, kid.” They migrate to Jason’s room. It’s sad, helping him move out, but Tim is a little starved for human contact—his mother doesn’t qualify—so he’ll take what he can get. Jason begins pulling clothing out of drawers, and Tim helps him box up the things he had been storing on his shelf. Tim smiles as he finds a copy of the Jason’s band’s CD. The Outlaws it says in big, angry lettering on the case.</p><p>“This is from your band?” Tim asks, breaking the casual silence that was there. Jason glances over, freezing when he sees what Tim has. He clears his throat, looking down. His white shock of hair falls in his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah.” Jason keeps folding clothes. “Uh, you can hold onto it. I don’t really want it anymore.”</p><p>“Oh, no, I can’t!” Tim protests instantly.</p><p>“Keep it.” Jason says firmly. “I don’t want to dwell on things that I can’t have anymore.” Though he is talking about his music, Tim can’t help feeling like that’s not the entirety what Jason is saying.</p><p>“Okay.” Tim sets the CD case aside and goes back to boxing things up. They work quietly for a little while. Tim can’t decide if the silence is awkward or companionable. He would like to think it’s not awkward. He’s pretty sure it is, though.</p><p>“So.” Tim tries. “Did you find somewhere to stay?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Jason says. “I did.” He doesn’t elaborate. Tim doesn’t ask.</p><p>“I’m glad.” Tim says, then quickly adds, “Not because I don’t want you here! I’m just glad you found a place to go.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, it’s not ideal, but it’ll work.” Jason says, not looking at Tim. Tim doesn’t stare at Jason, but he watches him out of the corner of his eyes. He’s trying to analyze his behavior, to see if he can read in his gestures and mild expressions why he left so suddenly. It just seems so un-Jason. He’s not sure why, but he needs to know.</p><p>They spend another fifteen minutes packing before Jason stops him. “That’s enough. I’m just taking a bit of stuff because I’m on my bike.”</p><p>“Okay.” Tim grabs the stuff he had packed, and helps Jason carry it back out to the main room.</p><p>“What time are you leaving for auditions?”</p><p>“Any time now. My mother insisted on driving me up.” Tim sighs. Jason makes a face, and it is clear they both harbor similar feelings about her. At least Jason doesn’t have to live with her.</p><p>Living with Jason was definitely preferable. Jason was funny, entertaining, secretly pretty nice, and he kept Tim sane for a while. Who else would’ve accepted Tim’s spontaneous request to teach him the guitar? Who else would’ve kept Tim company on those late movie nights, and been there for him when he needed support? Who else would’ve made sure Tim was eating and sleeping when he was drowning in his work? Who else was he supposed to go to now? Who else was he supposed to—supposed to—supposed to fall in love with?</p><p>“Oh my god.” Tim says, stopping dead. His mind whirls at a thousand miles per hour, too fast for him to form any coherent thoughts. He’s—Jason is—what just happened—what does he—when—in love. He’s fallen in love. With Jason. Tim whirls around to look at Jason, who looks confused and slightly on guard. Tim opens and closes his mouth. What does he do? How does he proceed? What does he say? Jason is right there and Tim is minutes from leaving and Jason might not come back after this and he has to say something but he can’t even remember to breathe normally let alone find a way to express his feelings to the first person he can definitively say he’s in love with.</p><p>“Tim?” Jason is looking at him quizzically. But Tim can’t respond because how does he? How does he tell Jason? Especially when Tim is leaving, and it isn’t fair. Even if Jason reciprocated, which Tim is sure he won’t, Tim is leaving in less than an hour. This can never work. Tim cannot give his whole self to both music and Jason. But he wants to.</p><p>“Jason…” Tim whispers breathlessly, and Jason must read something from him because his face changes, his brows and mouth pinching to suggest closing off, but his eyes widening. “Jason I—” Tim can’t finish and his fingers flutter as if they want to reach for Jason. But that would be bad and likely unwelcome, so Tim does not. Tim’s brows curve upwards helplessly, and he blinks twice.</p><p>It’s not that all of a sudden he’s in love. It isn’t a switch that was off one moment and flicked on the other. Tim can see now that it was a gradual process, a slow descent into insanity. It is only that now, all at once, he realized. He was oblivious to his own feelings, and they blindsided him. His timing could not have been any better.</p><p>“Jason, you…” Tim can’t form a complete sentence, because what he says here and now matters. It shapes what happens next. Then again, Tim already suspects. Jason cannot reciprocate because he left and he doesn’t want to be around Tim. Tim has tried to start a sentence to express his feelings three times now, but he’s not even sure how he feels, so how can he tell Jason? So Tim just says his name once more.</p><p>“Jason.” Tim’s expression is helpless, hopeful, and devastated all in one, and as Jason’s eyes scan Tim’s, his expression shifts, and Tim thinks Jason got the message. Tim stares at Jason like he won’t ever be able to get enough of the man’s expressions. Jason flicks through surprised, briefly pleased, but his features settle into an expression of resignation. With a heavy sigh, Jason sinks to the sofa.</p><p>“Let’s sit down.” Jason says. Tim’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Probably both. “Tim, look.” Jason clasps his hands and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. He bends his head so he’s looking downwards. “You have to do this.” Tim doesn’t conceal the expression of surprise. That’s not what he was expecting Jason to say.</p><p>“You have to audition, and you have to move on.”</p><p>“What? Jason—”</p><p>“No, listen. I thought about this, Tim. I know it seems big and overwhelming now, but this opportunity is the best thing for you, Tim. You need to move on with your life, and I can’t be the thing that holds you back. I won’t let you throw away your potential because of me.” Tim’s cheeks flush, and his jaw clenches. “Living with you has been great, but it couldn’t have lasted forever. I wish it could’ve but it can’t. The best thing you can do for yourself is to forget me and move on.” Tim is angry. How dare Jason decide he knows what’s best for Tim? When will people back off and realize that the best person to make decisions about Tim’s life is Tim?</p><p>“Jason, you don’t mean that.” Tim says.</p><p>“Tim, just think about it logically. You’re all about that, right? If you go and do this—this thing you’ve been putting your damn heart and soul into for the past few weeks—you could have an amazing future. You’ll get to do things most people only dream of. It’s everything you’ve been working towards for a long time. How long have you been playing the violin?” Jason looks at Tim.</p><p>“I don’t know.” Tim huffs. Is Jason really trying to convince him to leave? He can’t deny, that stings a bit. “Since I was three or four?”</p><p>“See?” Jason says. “Practically your whole life. We’ve only known each other for less than half a year! This is just a phase, Tim.” A phase? A <em>phase</em>? Tim grits his teeth. He doesn’t know what Jason’s end goal is here, but he’s sure as hell not going to let him dismiss his thoughts and feelings as just a phase.</p><p>“This is not just a phase.” Tim growls. “Jason, I—” he swallows. Why is this so hard to say? Spit it out, Drake, spit it out. “I really care about you, Jason.” Weak, but the best Tim could do. Jason looks torn: sad, and bitter. But there, Tim said it. Well, ish. But he told Jason how he feels. He can’t have just dreamed this up. Jason has to feel it a little bit, doesn’t he? Even if he left, those feelings have to be there. This couldn’t be one-sided. Tim realizes he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jason’s reply.</p><p>“Damn, Baby-bird.” Jason says. He looks like he’s waging an internal war, processing what Tim said, forming a response. Tim is wired tight, waiting. “Tim, I can’t lie to you. Living with you has been some of the best weeks of my life. But this can’t last. You have too much ahead of you, and me…” Jason pauses. “I won’t let you take that away from yourself. There’s nothing here worth throwing your best chance away for.” Tim’s face falls; how can Jason think that, when—</p><p>A knock on the door makes both of them look up.</p><p>“Go, Tim.” Jason says, not sounding angry, sad, or bitter anymore. He just sounds tired, like he’s given up.</p><p>“Jason…” Tim can’t walk away from him now!</p><p>“Go, Tim!” Jason repeats more forcefully. Tim recoils at the harsh tone. He stands, fingers brushing over the handle of his violin case resting next to him. “What are you, deaf? I told you, there’s no reason for you to stay here. Go.” Tim still doesn’t move. “Go!” Tim spins away, snatching up his violin and bag with his music in it. He hurries stiffly to the door.</p><p>“Goodbye, Jason.” Tim says, fighting back the angry tears that prickle in his eyes.</p><p>“Bye, Tim.” Jason says softly behind him. Tim doesn’t look. He doesn’t look as he opens the door, greets his mother tautly, and steps out. He doesn’t want to see Jason’s face, because he thinks it might break him if this is really goodbye. So he doesn’t looks. He just goes, on to the auditions and on to the future.</p><p>After all, isn’t that what Jason wanted?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ha, you thought both of them having feelings would mean they get together? It would never be so simple.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Departure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let's take a look at Jason's side of things, shall we?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason Todd is not having a good week. He was already dreading the too-fast countdown to Tim’s departure, and the realization of his feelings toward the younger man only made him feel worse. He didn’t think the situation could deteriorate much more after that.</p><p>And yet, it sure did, the primary reason by the name of Janet Drake. As if the havoc she wrought from afar wasn’t enough, she decided to drop in one day. As if that wasn’t awkward enough. After all, how was Jason even supposed to introduce himself? Hi, I’m Jason Todd and I’m in love with your son who is three years younger than me and totally out of my league? Maybe not. Janet certainly doesn’t make things easier for him.</p><p>Her dislike was obvious in the curl of her lip and the disdain in her tone whenever she glanced over at Jason. Jason was at a bit of a loss. The moment she denied his hand shake, he was sure that he intensely loathed this woman, but he wasn’t sure how to act around her. He didn’t want to be overtly rude—despite Janet clearly not extending him the same courtesy—but he wasn’t sure how much of her shit he could take. Honestly, he didn’t know how Tim put up with the woman.</p><p>Jason took an out and volunteered to prepare dinner. He didn’t try to, but it was hard not to hear the conversation taking place just outside the kitchen. He heard Janet’s angry words, and can’t deny that he flushed warmly at Tim’s firm defense of him. He didn’t think he really deserved it.</p><p>He took a lot of care preparing the meal. He knew it was kind of petty, but he wanted to prove to Janet that he’s not completely unskilled, as she seemed to think. After the meal was finished, Jason tried to escape, but when Janet insisted he stay, his guard went up.</p><p>The interrogation that followed, therefore, was not unexpected. Jason was a little surprised by Janet’s open hostility towards him. He did his best to let the comments roll off him, but when she accused him of taking advantage of Tim, Jason couldn’t stop the anger that spiked through him in a hot flash. He would never. He exchanges a glance with Tim, and is a little relieved to see that Tim doesn’t seem to think much of the accusation.</p><p>Tim hurriedly tried to steer the conversation away from Jason after that, and Janet moved on to talk about the Wayne deal. Jason kept a neutral expression on during that part of the conversation. He wasn’t ready for either Drake to know his connection to the Waynes. Then Janet insulted Bruce, and Jason stiffened a bit. He wasn’t Bruce’s biggest fan by any means, but he wasn’t afraid to say he liked him more than he liked Janet.</p><p>Janet asked Tim to clear the plates after that, and when she requested (commanded) Jason stay, he knew something was coming. He wasn’t wrong.</p><p>“Listen, Mr. Todd.” Janet spoke cold and low. “Let’s make this clear. You don’t belong in my son’s life.”</p><p>Jason raised his brows as she continued. “You are a bad influence on him.” She looked with mild disgust at Jason, like he was dirt on her shoes. Jason bristles a bit.</p><p>“You should be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of someone younger than you.”</p><p>“I’m not taking advantage of him.” Jason growls, keeping his voice low, too.</p><p>“Yes, you are. You come into his home, take up his time, and what do you offer him in return?” She looks frostily at him. “Not a thing.” Jason wanted to argue with her, but part of her words struck a chord with his own fears. He was a little afraid that what she said was true.</p><p>“Not only that, Mr. Todd. We need to discuss your feelings for my son.” Jason’s breath caught, but he tried to cover it up with a sneer.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Please, Mr. Todd. Don’t insult me. My son may be oblivious, but I am not.” Janet sounded like she was discussing an unsavory business deal, and not her son’s romantic interests. Jason felt a flutter of panic, not that he showed it. He really didn’t want to discuss this with Janet of all people. “I’m telling you that you need to back off.” She hisses, keeping her voice low as to not be heard over the sound of running water as Tim cleaned in the kitchen.</p><p>“That’s none of your business!” Jason said angrily.</p><p>“Incorrect. It involves my son’s future, therefore it is.”</p><p>“You can’t just tell me what to do. Tim’s your son, not me.” Jason said, crossing his arms.</p><p>“I’m not making the decisions, you are.” She smiled, which was pretty unnerving. “I’m just telling you why you’re going to make the choice I know you will.”</p><p>“And why, pray tell, am I going to do what you think I will?”</p><p>“Because, Mr. Todd, you care about my son.”</p><p>“That seems kind of counterintuitive.” Jason said dryly.</p><p>“Then allow me to explain.” Janet said bitingly. “You care about my son. It is clear in the disgustingly pleading looks you throw at him.”</p><p>“I don’t—”</p><p>“My son is ignorant of your affections, but he won’t always be. He will catch on to your feeling eventually, and because my son is far too caring and nice for his own good—the reason he let you stay in the first place, I’m sure—his desire to please everyone will be his downfall. He may not love you now, but if he finds out the way you feel about him, he will morph himself to fit your desires. You would be solely responsible for dragging him down from the future he deserves because you were too selfish to let him go.”</p><p>“You’re crazy.” Jason said, unable to keep his anger from twisting his face.</p><p>“I assure you I am not. Can you honestly tell me from what you know of my son that he would not do his best to please those close to him?”</p><p>Jason can’t answer that because he knows she’s right. Tim would give his all for those who asked. He would give and give until there’s nothing left because that was just Tim. He had seen that in the way Tim gave one hundred and ten percent for this music audition thing that Tim didn’t even want to do all that much. So he can’t contradict Janet because she’s not wrong. Janet smiled. She knew that he knew.</p><p>“If you put that kind of demand on my son, he will do his best to fill it, even if it is not truly what he wants, because the thing my son loves the most is pleasing other people. He will never truly be happy with you.”                   </p><p>“No.” Jason said.</p><p>“Yes. If you dump your feelings on my son, you will him drag down off the path he is climbing. Timothy has a glorious future in front of him, but it doesn’t have you in it. Every minute you spend with my son is more weight pulling away from the future you and I know he deserves.” Jason shook his head. No. He can’t accept that. He won’t.</p><p>“Any advance you make, any time you spend, any moment after this and before is another chain you wrap around Timothy. You are taking advantage of Timothy, because he’s too nice to say no.”</p><p>Jason shook his head mutely, but a tendril of doubt slithered in and gripped his heart. Was he taking advantage of Tim? Was the only reason he was still staying here because Tim was too kind to kick him out? Jason viciously didn’t want to believe that, but part of him already did.</p><p>“Stop denying it. You already know it’s true. You need to get out now, before you hurt Timothy even more.”</p><p>“I would never hurt Tim.” Jason snarled.</p><p>“Please, Mr. Todd. You can do nothing but.”</p><p>“No.” Jason stood abruptly. He’ll keep denying it, but a coldness has seeped into his chest, and the fear that she was right was growing.</p><p>“Really? Tell that to Tim when he gives up everything he’s ever worked for just to please some man who was too selfish to walk away and let him do what he does best.” No. Tim wouldn’t—Jason wouldn’t—that wasn’t true. Was Jason really hurting Tim just by being around him?</p><p>As if she had sensed his thoughts, Janet leaned forwards.</p><p>“You’re destroying him.” No. Jason whirled around and fled to his room. No, no, no. He slammed the door behind him. Before he could think much about what he was doing, he was shoving things in his duffle bag. He can’t deny it. Janet is right. He couldn’t be responsible for dragging Tim down. He refused to. So he was leaving. He didn’t care where. He was gone. It was killing him already. But for Tim, Jason could deal with it.</p><p>Jason wasn’t really a responsible person. He was known for his talent for making bad decisions and doing the wrong thing. He knew he seldom did the sensible thing, and could be downright selfish some times. But if it was for Tim, he would do the right thing, just this once. He would leave if that was what was best for Tim.</p><p>So he packed his bag quickly, grabbing only the things he thought he’d need, and he stalks angrily out of his room. Tim was there, looking like he was in the midst of an argument with his mother.</p><p>“I’m leaving. I’ll come back for my stuff sometime later. Don’t bother calling.” Jason said. He has to go, and he has to make Tim want to let him go. So being an asshole—something Jason does so well—is his best option.</p><p>That’s what Jason told himself, anyway. It didn’t make Tim’s calls sting any less. But Jason is strong, so he slams the door behind him. He could do this. He could do this for Tim.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Jason leaves the apartment behind, trying to convince himself that he’s not that torn up about it. He’s not a child, he’s not going to cry about it. He’s not a love-struck school girl either. He’s not going to mope about it—really, he’s not. He’s going to do the sensible thing and go drink himself silly before deciding how to deal with this.</p><p>He drives his bike to one of his favorite bars, and slinks inside. The bartender nods at him as he enters, and he slides into a spot where he can see the rest of the room while still being in the shadows. The bartender, an old acquaintance from his bar-visiting times, checks in with him. Jason orders something strong and downs it probably too fast.</p><p>Jason doesn’t want to feel, because feeling means hurting, so he downs drinks until he doesn’t feel anymore. Somehow, the nothingness that spreads through him isn’t much better than the cutting blades of emotion. He watches time slip away, until it is a little before midnight. He should probably figure out where he’s going, unless he wants to sleep in an alley. He glances out the window, and sees rain coming down in sheets, blowing about. No, he doesn’t want to spend tonight outside. He grimaces as he pictures his options. He doesn’t have very many—and thinking them up is a little hard now that the fuzziness of alcohol has descended upon him.</p><p>He could find a motel within walking distance. He really shouldn’t drive, with the weather as unsavory as it is and with his level of intoxication. He’s not stupid; he’s not going to try to drive his bike like this. So he could find a cheap motel on foot and stay there. He doesn’t really have the cash to do that, but if he needed to he could. It might hurt his finances when he’s so poor right now, but desperate times and what not.</p><p>He doesn’t really have any friends in town. The only people really close to him were Kori, Roy, and Tim, and none of them were an option right now. He knows other people of course, but none that he trusts enough to consider staying with. He pulls out his phone and thumbs through his contact list for any ideas. It’s not very inspiring. The motel may be his best option—assuming he could find one nearby. If anything, the cold rain might sober him up a bit.</p><p>Of course, there was another option. Jason scrolls past a name he hasn’t called for his own reasons in a long time. Dick Grayson. Jason shudders to even contemplate it, but the more he does the more appealing it begins to sound. It would be a warm house, probably breakfast included, and most importantly—free. However, he runs the risk of bumping into Daddy Bruce, something Jason would really like to avoid for the rest of his life. Jason lets his finger hover over Dick’s name. Is he really that desperate?</p><p>Well, this whole day has pretty much sucked, so how much worse could his family make it? He’s really damn tired and doesn’t like the idea of trying to find a motel right now. Given his luck today, he’d probably be attacked by muggers and be too inebriated to do much about it. Jason looks out the window again and sees the rain flying at an almost-horizontal angle. He snorts and comes to a decision. Screw this, there’s no way he’s spending a second more in that weather than he has to.</p><p>Jason hits dial. It takes Dick several rings to pick up, but when he does his voice isn’t groggy. Jason hasn’t woken him up, it seems. He didn’t expect to; his whole adopted family tended to be night owls.</p><p>“Jason? What’s up?” Dick sounds a hair too casual, like he doesn’t want Jason to know how curious he is about the reason for the call. Jason almost never calls, and certainly not at this hour. God, Jason is exhausted.</p><p>“Hey, Dickie-bird.” Jason says, his voice a little rough. “I need a favor.” Jason can’t believe he’s doing this. This is definitely a low point for him.</p><p>“Jason?” Dick says, a little bit of urgency coloring through his voice. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Can you give me a ride?” Jason asks in a low tone. He kind of hates this. “I need somewhere to go.” There is a pause for a moment, most likely Dick trying to process the fact that Jason just asked him for a favor like that.</p><p>“Yeah.” Dick clears his throat. “Yeah. Course I can. Where are you? Do you need help?”</p><p>Jason laughs, more a hazy, drunken chuckle that his normal laugh. “Not the kind of help you can give me, Dickie. ‘M at the bar at the corner Third Avenue and Sixteenth Street.”</p><p>“You sound drunk, Jason.” Dick sighs, and Jason hears the muffled sound of doors closing from the other line.</p><p>“Very.” Jason agrees. “See you in a bit, Dickie-bird.”</p><p>“Hang on, Jason. I’m on my way.” Jason hangs up. That wasn’t the hard part. No, stepping into the manor and possibly seeing Bruce, that was going to be interesting. Hopefully, the man won’t kick him to the curb. On that thought, Jason downs the rest of his drink and calls for his tab. He hands over some crumpled bills and swivels in his spot to watch the door.</p><p>The buzzing in his head and body lull him into a state where he almost doesn’t see Dick walk in. He’s feeling the alcohol hit him more heavily now. He didn’t give it much time, he was downing them so fast, but it’s catching up.</p><p>“Jason?” Dick snaps his fingers in Jason’s face, and Jason blinks and jerks.</p><p>“Hey, Dick.” Jason says, his voice feeling slow to him. Dick clearly thought the same thing, because he makes a concerned expression and offers a hand to Jason.</p><p>“Wow. You are hammered. Good thing you called me; I don’t think you’d make it to a cab in your state.”</p><p>“Um. Yeah.” Jason says, blinking heavily. “Thanks for comin’.”</p><p>“Yeah. Let’s get you in the car.” Jason moves to his feet, feeling unsteady. God, he’s a mess. It’s pathetically laughable. He’s just grateful Tim won’t see him like this. He winces. He was trying not to think about Tim too much, which was proving really hard when he was the whole reason Jason was here. Also, trying not to think about something has to be the best way to focus on it, Jason’s discovered. “You okay, Jay?” Dick says, moving his hand hesitantly to Jason’s shoulder to help him balance. If Jason was less drunk he might have punched him, but since Dick was kind of his ticket out of there, fighting would have to wait. Dick picks up Jason’s bag and slings it over his shoulder, nodding to Jason.</p><p>They head outside, Jason shambling along and Dick supporting him. Dick pulls out keys and unlocks the door to a shiny red sports vehicle.</p><p>“That’s not yours.” Jason gives him a disbelieving look.</p><p>“No. It’s Bruce’s. I borrowed it since this weather is horrible for riding on bike.” Jason understands that for sure. The rain keeps pelting him in the eyes, so he has to keep blinking, and his clothes are quickly dampening. Dick helps him into the passenger side and comes around to the driver’s side.</p><p>He pulls away from the building, windshield wipers making a blurry painting out of the Gotham lights. Jason stares out the window as Dick drives. He feels like crap. The alcohol was supposed to block everything out, and for a bit it did. But now the night’s events seem so much worse, and Jason kind of feels like crying. God. He has to get himself together before they get to the manor. He doesn’t think he can bear Bruce seeing him like this. That brings him to the question; he should probably ask Dick about Bruce.</p><p>“Uh, ‘s Bruce at the manor?” Jason asks, not looking at Dick. He instead focuses on the road in front of them, trying to block out the spinning in his head.</p><p>“Bruce? No, he’s staying at Wayne Enterprises tonight. Still got lots of work to do.” Dick shakes his head. “He said he’d be back in the morning, but we’ll see. You know how he is.” Jason feels relived. He’s not there. Oh, Jason sure does know how Bruce is, and that’s precisely why he doesn’t want to be around him.</p><p>“’Kay. Good.” Jason says. “Thanks for comin’, Dick.”</p><p>“You said that already.”</p><p>“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Well, thanks again.”</p><p>Dick chuckles. “You’re welcome, Jay. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t answer my little bro’s distress calls?”</p><p>“You’re not m’brother.” Jason says weakly and without conviction. Dick just smiles.</p><p>“Yes, I am.” Jason doesn’t bother arguing more. He’s a little too tired and depressed for that.</p><p>It is a ten minute ride before they are pulling through the large gates. It’s almost half past midnight by now, the sky as dark as ever. The constant cloud cover prevents any light from leaking through, so the gates look shadowy and ominous. The manor, too, is dark. It looks a bit like a haunted house.</p><p>“Ha. I guess it does.” Dick laughs. Jason looks at him in mild surprise. Had he said that out loud? Dick doesn’t see his confusion. He is too busy clicking a button on the roof the car, automatically opening one of the garages in the house. They pull in, and Dick climbs out. Jason is slower, both from his drunkenness and a bit of hesitation.</p><p>He’s been in the manor a bit over the past week, but this is different. Before he was a visitor, but now he is a guest. He’s not sure how ready he is for that. Dick is already heading inside, so Jason follows. As he steps over the threshold, there’s a lot less fanfare than he has imagined. The lights are mostly off. No one is waiting for them.</p><p>“Damian’s asleep upstairs.” Dick says quietly. “I was still up, so I came.” Dick shuffles along towards where Jason remembers the sitting room to be, Jason trailing behind him each step clumsier than usual. Dick takes a seat on a futon facing Jason. Jason grabs a chair.</p><p>“So, I don’t know. You can stay in your old room.” Dick offers. Jason winces. That sounds not fun. Dick notices his look. “Or one of the guest suites, if you’d rather!” He adds hurriedly. “I mean, this is still kind of your home.”</p><p>Jason laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot if you think that.” Dick frowns.</p><p>“I know you’ve got a beef with Bruce, but that doesn’t mean you have to push the rest of us away. I love you, little wing.” Dick says. Normally, such sentimentality would make Jason want to vomit, but at this point he just feels vaguely sad and lonely. What a wreck he is.</p><p>Jason rests his hands in his head.</p><p>“I—” he’s forgotten how to form proper sentences. Dick’s open profession of caring rubs salt onto the wound that is his heart. He doesn’t know how to respond to Dick’s love. Love does seem be the issue. Jason loves Tim. Tim and Jason can’t be together. Tim is going to have a brilliant future, but without Jason. Jason is very drunk. Jason is basically homeless at this point. Bruce and Jason are probably going to fight when they next meet. It’ll probably be sooner rather than later, which Jason knows he can’t avoid. All the things he wants to run from seem to be inevitable, and the things he wants are inevitably taken away from him. And it hurts. God, it hurts like hell and Jason regrets drinking so much this night because every iota of emotion is magnified and now Jason feels like he is going to explode—or implode, more likely.  </p><p>“Jason?” Dick’s worried tone breaks through Jason’s rising wave of overwhelming thoughts just enough for Jason to remember that Dick is still here. Jason is fighting on his last breath for control of himself right now, and he’s losing. Everyone has their breaking point, and Jason fears he is reaching his. How much more of this crap is he supposed to put up with? It’s not fair.</p><p>It’s not fair.</p><p>Then, Jason is scrubbing at the corners of his eyes. He sure as hell will not cry, especially not in front of Dick. Well, great job he’s doing of that so far.</p><p>“Jason, what’s going on?” Dick asks, gentle concern making his voice smooth and soft. Jason doesn’t answer. Of all the places to have a breakdown, this would be about the same place on the list as airtight boxes on the bottom of the ocean and burning warehouses. “Come on, Jay. You can talk to me.”</p><p>Jason shakes his head. “You ever have to make a decision you know is the right thing, but still feels wrong as hell?”</p><p>Dick looks at him with curiosity renewed, but nods.</p><p>“Yeah, well. Doing the right thing sucks.” Jason says, not looking up. “It’s—” Jason looks up sadly. “It’s painful.” Dick gives him a sympathetic look, and Jason isn’t even as annoyed as he normally would be. Being intoxicated does some funny things to his brain, including lowering his defenses. So here he is blabbering his heart out to his idiot-brother and he can’t even bring himself to care that much.</p><p>“What happened, Jay?”</p><p>“You ever meet someone, Dick, who you would do anything for? You ever feel that way about Babs?” An expression of understanding passes over Dick’s face.</p><p>“What’s her name?”</p><p>“His.”</p><p>“Oh.” Dick sounds surprised, but not displeased. “Okay, what’s his name?”</p><p>“Tim.”  Jason wonders how long it will take Dick to connect the dots between his Tim and the Drake’s son.</p><p>“And what happened?”</p><p>“I left.” Jason doesn’t know why he’s spilling to Dick. What he does know, though, is that he’s tired and frustrated and feeling too emotional to keep it all in. Dick just happened to be there, and Jason knew he was too nice to take advantage of what Jason was telling him.</p><p>“But you’re sad about it?” Jason rubs at his eyes again and doesn’t answer. “Nevermind, stupid question. Obviously you’re upset about it. I can smell the liquor on you.”</p><p>Jason laughs humorlessly.  “Yeah. It’s complicated.”</p><p>“You want to talk about it?” Jason sighs. He looks across the room to a large grandfather clock ticking on the early morning hours.</p><p>“Yeah, actually.” And he does. He needs to get this off his chest, and since he doesn’t really have a diary, Dick is the next best option. Dick looks about as surprised as he feels about his answer, but he leans back and gestures for Jason to explain.</p><p>“Remember how I told you I was staying with a friend? That was a lie. Or a half truth. Tim’s not a friend. He’s… more.” Jason tries to put his thoughts together enough to summarize the situation—without sounding like a harlequin romance. “We met in a totally weird way, and I,” Jason laughs a bit at the memory. “I thought he was cute.”</p><p>Jason thinks back to that night. It feels like it was centuries ago, but it was barely a couple months. It’s amazing and terrifying how fast things went. He remembers Tim’s disheveled look, the way his eyes were bright with adrenaline. Jason remembers the anger that flared up seeing those punks mess with Tim, even though he barely knew the kid. Jason can still remember the smell of the alley. He had just been ducking out to grab a quick smoke when he heard the sounds of a scuffle brewing. Jason didn’t like to stick his nose into other people’s business much, but he wasn’t going to let some random person be mugged because he was feeling too lazy to help out, either.</p><p>“We met again, at the store after that. He asked me to teach him how to play the guitar.” Jason remembers Tim’s face, as surprised as he was, clearly, at the request. Jason still didn’t know how it was they met again. He’s trying really hard not to be cheesy, but he can’t help but wonder if it was fate pushing them together. But no, that would be stupid, and even if it was, clearly fate had given up on their little duo. “I said yes.” Jason stares off into space, barely aware of Dick’s presence in the room. Sure, he was talking to him, but he really wasn’t. He was talking for the sake of talking and for the sake of being heard. He needed someone to hear.</p><p>“After that, things went downhill pretty quick. We got together every Wednesday, and sometimes on the weekends. We’d play for a couple of hours—the kid was really damn good—and then we’d chat. I didn’t know it then, hell, I didn’t figure it out until about a week or so ago, but I was infatuated. The kid just had this personality that made him so likeable. Maybe it’s because he was so weird and unlike Kori and Roy. It was a refreshing change.”</p><p>“I can understand that.” Dick says, nodding. Jason’s attention snaps back to him.</p><p>“It wasn’t too bad until everything in my life went to hell. Per norm.” Jason grimaces. “Roy overdosed, Kori left, and suddenly I didn’t have a band or a way to pay the rent. Tim offered me a room, though, for free. God, he’s too nice for his own good.” Jason runs his hands through his already thoroughly ruffled hair. “S’the only reason he took me in. He’s too nice to say no to someone in need.”</p><p>“I’m sure that’s not true, Jason.” Dick says in Jason’s defense. Jason just shakes his head.</p><p>“It <em>is</em>. Anyway, I didn’t come here to argue this with you, dickhead. Did you want me to tell you the story or not?” There’s Jason’s usual snark. He’d thought he’d lost somewhere along with his pride and dignity on his way here.</p><p>“Sorry.” Dick smiles apologetically. “Go on.”</p><p>“So he took me in. I stayed with Tim, and that was easy. We just went on with our regular lives, but with each other.”</p><p>“Mmhmm.” Dick nodded, dutifully responding to Jason’s story.</p><p>“But things weren’t great. Tim was hit with this sudden, unbeatable opportunity.” Jason says the last word with a sneer. “He became super busy, consumed with this stupid thing he didn’t even want to do.” Jason gets angry just talking about it, his feelings still distorted by the alcohol. “It’s so stupid. He doesn’t even want to do this thing but he’s doing it anyway because his mom is a pushy bitch who won’t leave him alone about it. God, I could just punch that woman.”</p><p>Dick raises his eyebrows a bit.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I wouldn’t actually punch her, but she deserves it. Anyway, Tim is pushing himself to his limits leaving me to look after his sorry ass. But I couldn’t—” Jason pulls on his hair, recollecting his hazy thoughts.</p><p>“We would spend these quiet nights after Tim would work himself to near exhaustion and we would watch movies neither of us had seen since we both had crappy childhoods.” Jason shakes his head. He can’t do this. He can’t go back and tell his story like it’s over. Because it is. Jason knows he has to let go.</p><p>“Hell.” He breathes. “It’s bad. But I can’t be around him. He’s this amazing—brilliant—” Jason still can’t quite put into words what Tim is.</p><p>He’s soft and quiet and gentle. But he also has a lurking passion. If Jason was more poetic, he might say Tim was like a horizon holding its breath on the verge of sunrise. If he was more poetic, he would say the moments where Tim relaxes and sets aside his studies and work long enough to smile and have fun, those are like golden rays of sunlight slipping out into the sky, beautiful, delicate. But that’s bullshit and Jason is definitely not poetic, so he can’t and won’t say stupid stuff like that.</p><p>“Hey, Jason.” Dick says softly, and leans forward and rubs his shoulder. Jason hadn’t realized he was tearing up a bit. Dammit. He’s out of control.</p><p>“I can’t be around him. He has so much potential—goodness in him, and I’m—I’m—” Jason let the words fall from brain to mouth with no filter. “Not good enough. I’m only dragging him down. I don’t have anything to offer him that he can’t get from anyone else—probably from someone actually good for him.”</p><p>“Jason, no.” Dick sounds horrified with him. Yeah, Jason’s pretty horrific. “Jason, you can’t actually believe all that. I don’t know Tim, but I do know you, and I know you’re not like that.”</p><p>“No.” Jason stands heavily. “You don’t know me at all, Dick.”</p><p>“Jason—” Dick says apologetically.</p><p>“I’m going upstairs.” Jason says. “Night, Dick. Thanks for talkin’.” Jason turns on his heel and marches out. He grabs the bag he left by the door and hoists it over his shoulder, taking the stairs up. He’s lived here long enough to remember where his room is, but he passes it by. He’s not staying there, though. He has enough bad memoires on his plate at the moment, and sleeping in there won’t help things any.</p><p>He passes by what he knows to be Damian’s room. Then he’s in another hall. He thinks he remembers which room is a guest room, but to be honest he’s a little too tipsy to be certain. Oh well. Jason guesses right, tossing his bag unceremoniously on the floor by the foot of the bed. Then, he pulls off any clothing articles that smell too much like the bar and collapse on the bed.</p><p>The weariness that often follows the buzz of drinking hits him now, and sleep comes easily. He wishes dreams would stay away. But, of course, they don’t.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Manor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason wakes up to the worst hangover he’s had in months. His whole body feels achy to the touch, and his pulse feels too loud in his head. He grumbles as he crawls out the bed. The covers are tossed aside in a tangled heap, and his shirt and jeans have been discarded carelessly on the floor. Jason picks them up and swaps them for a clean white T-shirt from his bag and another pair of jeans.</p>
<p>As he tugs his pants up, the unmistakable scent of breakfast food—bacon and something else—drifts up to him. He freezes with one leg in his pants and the other half not. Who’s cooking? Definitely not Dick—the house would probably smell like smoke—and he can’t imagine Damian actually wanting to get up and do something beneficial for the rest of the household. Obviously, someone was doing it, though, so Jason finishes dressing and goes to investigate.</p>
<p>He treads quietly down the stairs, creeping into the kitchen.</p>
<p>Ah. He shouldn’t be surprised.</p>
<p>“Master Jason!” Alfred Pennyworth turns from his post at the skillet and greats Jason with a look of pleasant surprise. “It’s delightful to see you here, though admittedly unexpected. What brings you back to the Manor?”</p>
<p>“Hey.” Jason says, his voice still thick. “Uh, yeah. I asked Dick to give me a ride last night.” As if summoned by his name, Dick glided into the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Jay! You’re up. I was wondering if you would ever wake up!” He grins, the comment a joke, but it still comes off slightly wrong to Jason. But Dick’s attention is already moving on, his usual overwhelming energy making its expected appearance. “Ooh, are those pancakes?” Dick peers over Alfred’s shoulder, who shoos him away.</p>
<p>“Breakfast will be served in fifteen minutes, Master Dick. Please refrain from eating until then.” Dick smiles guiltily and backs away with his hands in the air.</p>
<p>“Just peeking, Al.” Then he turns to Jason. “This is what it’s like having Alfred around. Good food, discipline.” Jason grunts in response. He’s vaguely uncomfortable with Alfred’s return. This wasn’t something he signed up for.</p>
<p>It’s hard to be around Alfred. Alfred, loyal butler to the core, was never someone Jason resented in the same way he resented Bruce. Alfred was always nice to him, and he even when Jason was doing things the rest of the family might turn their backs on him for, Alfred would still take him in and give him a disapproving look and cookies. That’s just how Alfred was. It throws Jason off. How can he hate the whole household when Alfred is so decidedly unhateable?</p>
<p>“If you would go rouse Master Damian, Master Dick, we shall eat shortly.”</p>
<p>“You got it.” Dick spins with surprising agility and is heading out quickly. Jason awkwardly stands in the doorframe, blinking heavily.</p>
<p>“Master Jason, why don’t you assist me?” Alfred suggests in a tone that implied a command.</p>
<p>“Sure.” Jason pushes off the door and takes the platter Alfred hands him. He takes it to the dining room and sets it down, Alfred right behind with more dishes. Jason inhales the aromatic scents of the food as he sets it down.</p>
<p>“Smells great.” Jason says. Alfred gives him a kind smile.</p>
<p>“It is a pleasure to have you here.” Jason snorts quietly. Sure it is.</p>
<p>Dick bounces back into the room, Damian trudging after him a minute later. Jason and Dick finish helping Alfred serve the dishes, and take a seat.</p>
<p>They dig in.</p>
<p>“It’s nice that you’re back here.” Dick says warmly to Jason.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah.” Jason grumbles, helping himself liberally to the cool whip that Dick had placed on the table.</p>
<p>“How long will you be staying here, Master Jason?” Alfred asks. Jason doesn’t answer right away. He hasn’t really thought about it so far. He can’t go back to Tim’s. That much he’s sure of. He’s made his decision. Now he’ll stick to it.</p>
<p>“I think I might stay a while.” Jason says quietly.</p>
<p>“Really?” Dick and Damian say at the same time with contrasting levels of enthusiasm. Damian sighs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Dick’s face splits into a grin.</p>
<p>“That’s great!” Dick says.</p>
<p>“Yeah, great.” Damian says with biting sarcasm.</p>
<p>“It will be delightful to have you around.” Alfred says. Jason gives a slight smile. He’ll stay. He can do this. He can face Bruce. It’ll be fine. Jason tries to reassure himself of this, but his stomach feels like it’s tied in a knot. He’s always hated the idea of having to crawl back to Bruce.</p>
<p>He won’t be here long, though. He just has to find a job and a place, then he’s out of here. Sure. Easier said than done. Jason doesn’t listen much to the conversation after that. He picks at his food, specifically not thinking about Tim (so pretty much doing nothing but).</p>
<p>Dick keeps shooting him looks like he thinks he knows what’s going on. He kind of does, so Jason supposes that’s fair. Mercifully, the meal does not last too long.</p>
<p>“Master Dick, if I may remind you, you have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”</p>
<p>Dick nods. “Right.”</p>
<p>“Now, since I have been gone for a while, and the household has fallen into a bit of a… disarray,” Dick gives another sheepish grin, which seems to be his fallback around Alfred. “I will be taking today to return the manor to its normal standards. As such, Master Jason, you will need to take Master Dick to his appointment.”</p>
<p>“Wait, what?” Jason splutters. “No. I’m not dragging Dick to his stupid doctor’s appointment.”</p>
<p>“Come on, Jay. I’m not that bad of company, am I?” Jason glared at Dick.</p>
<p>“You certainly don’t have to, Master Jason. If you’d rather stay here, you are more than welcome to help me with the chores around the house. There are several bathrooms that could do with your elbow grease.” Alfred says. “I do, however, expect you to pull some of your own weight in this household, just like everyone else.”</p>
<p>“Fine.” Jason says with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll drive Dick over. I hope you don’t expect me to take him on my bike, though.”</p>
<p>“Certainly not. You can drive Master Dick’s vehicle.”</p>
<p>“Hey, wait a minute!” Dick says. “I didn’t agree to that. I can drive myself! I picked Jason up yesterday.”</p>
<p>“True. However, today’s appointment will involve pain medications that I would not be comfortable with you driving with afterwards.”</p>
<p>Dick gives a lamenting look towards Alfred, slumping his shoulders in defeat. Then, he perks up again.</p>
<p>“That’s alright! More time to spend with Jay!”</p>
<p>“Yay.” Jason growls. Alfred levels both of them with a look that says behave, and both men stop. Jason’s still unhappy about it, though.</p>
<p>“Very good, then. Now that everything’s settled, I suggest you boys entertain yourselves for the next few hours.” Alfred says, already moving to clear the table. “Off you go.”</p>
<p>There’s a brief rumbling of chairs on hardwood as Jason, Dick, and Damian stand. Damian is quick to escape, and Dick follows Jason out into the hall. Jason can feel the expression forming on Dick’s face before he even sees it, and he knows it means Dick’s about to try and talk to him.</p>
<p>“What, Dick?” He turns with an annoyed look. Dick looks a little surprised to be interrupted before even forming the question, but he doesn’t hesitate much.</p>
<p>“What are you going to do today?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Jason says with annoyance. “I didn’t bring my guitar, which was stupid.” His lip curls a little in disgust. “Probably keep looking for a job. Why do you care?”</p>
<p>Dick tilts his head and smiles his dumb smile that radiates caring. “Because you’re my brother and you’re back and I missed you?”</p>
<p>“Did you now?” Jason grumbles, turning away.</p>
<p>“Of course. What’s not to love about your sunny conversations and personable attitude?”</p>
<p>“Whatever, Dick. Don’t you have a demon child to be looking after?”</p>
<p>“You mean Damian? He can take care of himself. He’s probably drawing in his room. He’s really good, you know. You should see some of his stuff.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, looking through an eleven-year-old’s art is my ideal day.” Jason says with a roll of his eyes as he makes his way back towards the stairs going up to his room. He leaves Dick shaking his head on the main level and heads up to his room. He feels a little better now that he has a meal in him. But he’s still achy and feeling kind of nauseous, so he resolves to take it easy. Jason pushes back into the guest room he claimed as his and gathers up the things he had strewn onto the floor. He finds a laundry basket in the small closet attached to the room, and tosses his dirty articles in there. Jason wordlessly collects the clothing he has roughly shoved in his bag last night and folds them, tucking them in the drawers in the provided dresser. He doesn’t know how long he’ll stay here, but he might as well make himself comfortable while he is.</p>
<p>Once he’s done, he allows himself a moment to just collect his thoughts. He sits on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. He needs to figure out what comes next for him.</p>
<p>He’s not staying with Tim. That part is over. He’ll need to go get the rest of his things sometime, but he’s not planning on staying here at the manor any longer than he has to. It’d be a hassle to bring all his things here only to move them right over to his new place once he finds one. Then again, it depends on how long it’ll take him to pick out a new spot. Tim’s auditions are approaching rapidly, and once they’re over, Tim might very well be moving out. If that’s the case, Jason will need to get his things sooner rather than later if he wants to keep them.</p>
<p>He has to face it: He’ll have to go back to Tim’s at least once to get his things. Hell, he probably should. He owes the kid a better goodbye than the one he gave him, anyway. It’s Janet and himself that Jason’s mad at, not Tim. The kid doesn’t deserve being kicked around anymore than he already has been.</p>
<p>So, when to go by? Jason pushes the thought away. He has time to think about, which means he can effectively procrastinate the decision. Jason’s comfortable with that.</p>
<p>There’s another thing he should address: Bruce. He’s going to end up face to face with the man probably sooner rather than later, so if he wants to walk away with minimum bloodshed he should probably take time to think about what he’s going to say.</p>
<p>What can he say? Sorry I walked out of your life in a fiery bang—reference absolutely intended—but now that I’ve had my heart broken by our neighbor’s kid I’m back? Or maybe something along the lines of hey, Bruce, long time no see. I was just crashing here until I’ve got a job because I recently lost mine and the college kid I was living with like a parasite with is no longer an option? Jason huffs. This going to end badly, he can already tell.</p>
<p>He’ll just keep it simple. Sure. He can do that. Just the basics: he’s back, he won’t be here long, and he really just wants to stay out of the way. If there was somewhere else he could go, he would.</p>
<p>Okay. He’s got enough of a plan that he feels comfortable facing the world. He gets up, shakes off his thoughts and returns to the downstairs.</p>
<p>In his haste to pack last night, he didn’t put too much thought into what he’d actually need, and something he neglected to include was anything to entertain himself. His guitar, his books, his CDs, all those things are back at Tim’s apartment, and Jason has no intention of going to collect them today. Thus, he has to figure out what he’s going to do until it’s time to drive Dick around. He pads along a hallway, wandering about the quiet place.</p>
<p>It’s so different from Tim’s apartment. It’s larger, and its location outside of Gotham distances it from any outside noises. It’s dead quiet in here. While Tim’s apartment is nothing to sneeze at, every square inch of Wayne Manor seems to radiate wealth, oozing it from every ornate statue resting on polished tables and from every glowering portrait hanging on the walls. Jason always thought they were a bit creepy; glimpses of generations of dead Waynes. Not his idea of home décor.</p>
<p>Jason finds himself a little later outside the library. He slips inside, taking in the rows of shelves and the musty odor giving the room its cozy sense. He wanders in, approaching one of the shelves. You might not guess it looking at him, but Jason is a man who enjoys reading. It gave him something to do when he was younger and awkwardly hovering around the manor. He got several recommendations from Alfred, who was always willing to supply.</p>
<p>He runs his fingers over the lip of the shelf as he meanders along. He stops when he finds a familiar title. He tugs it out of its nook and runs his thumb over the familiar, worn spine. Pride and Prejudice. He’s spent hours pouring over this book. He flips through the pages quickly, looking at the words printed neatly. It fills him with nostalgia.</p>
<p>He grabs it and moves away from the shelf. He finds a chair tucked away inconspicuously and makes himself comfortable. This takes him back to his days when he was living here, before everything went to hell. It’s almost nice to remember. It’s not quite home, but it holds the vague air of being so, like a shadowy memory of home draping the scenery just in the corners of his eyes.</p>
<p>There isn’t a clock in here, and Jason doesn’t look for one. Instead, he allows time to pass unmonitored as he sits in the large armchairs that always made him feel like a child when he was younger. As a teen, he was still short enough that his feet didn’t quite rest comfortably on the floor, and there was enough room by his sides to fit another person of his stature there.</p>
<p>Now, he fits just fine. He can no longer curl up in these chairs on thundery nights. He is no longer the child that left the manor seeing nothing but red. He’s an adult now, however young he may be. He sees things from a different perspective, and not just because he’s several inches taller now.</p>
<p>He loses himself in the pages of the familiar novel and the clutches of childhood memories. The story wraps him up in thin webs that tell him the familiar tale of love and role in society. He doesn’t think about Tim, though he hovers in the back of his mind. Instead, Jason allows himself to be spun into the cocoon of Jane Austen’s writing. Thus, it is a surprise when Dick speaks from just a little bit away. The spell shatters, and Jason looks up in mildly disoriented surprise.</p>
<p>“Jay? I’ve been looking all over for you.” Dick says. Jason shoots a confused glance towards the window, and is surprised to see the sun already past its mark of noon and beginning its graceful decent.</p>
<p>“Sorry.” Jason closes the novel and stands, stretching out the sensation of having sat for hours. “I lost track of time.”</p>
<p>“What’re you reading?” Dick says curiously.</p>
<p>“Pride and Prejudice.” Dick laughs, but falters after he realizes Jason is not messing with him.    </p>
<p>“Wait, really? You like that kind of stuff?”</p>
<p>Jason rolls his eyes at Dick’s ignorance. “Yes, Dick, I do. Go ahead, laugh.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m not laughing.” Dick says, wiping his earlier expression off his face. “I just wouldn’t have guessed. I just figured you’d be more of a—I don’t know—Stephen King kind of guy. I didn’t know.”</p>
<p>“You’re right. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Jason says shortly, heading out toward the hall. Dick follows quickly.</p>
<p>“That’s true.” Dick says in a friendly tone. “There is a lot I don’t know about you. But I want to learn. Come on, Jay. Give me a chance.” He keeps pace with Jason as they head towards the garage.</p>
<p>“You had a chance.” Jason says, the familiar arguments rising up in him. “You just didn’t use it very well.”</p>
<p>“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m willing to try again if you’ll let me.” Jason stops and looks at him. Part of him wants to keep fighting, to push Dick away. But that part of him isn’t quite as loud anymore. He’s not sure exactly why, though he has a few ideas.</p>
<p>“Just get in the car.” Jason says, opening the garage door and leading the way over to Dick’s car. It wasn’t a direct denial, and Dick seemed to notice that, because he smiled as he opened the passenger side and climbed in.</p>
<p>The quiet is amicable as Jason pulls out into the driveway, and begins the winding drive out of the grounds and back towards Gotham. This, he thinks to himself as he drives along a road where the trees shed leaves in multicolor arrays and the sun just barely slips through the clouds, this is not so bad. He can live with this: being in Gotham, being with Dick, out on the roads. He might just be able to survive like this.</p>
<p>A couple of years ago he would never have been able to get along with Dick so well. That isn’t to say what they’re doing right now is getting along, but it’s the closest thing he’s had in a long time. Jason and Dick both have clearly grown as people. It also doesn’t hurt that Jason’s still kind of in depressed-heartbreak mode, either.</p>
<p>The clinic isn’t too far away. Jason makes no attempts to talk and Dick follows suit. They wind through busy Gotham streets and pull into the parking lot of the clinic. Dick climbs out, but Jason lingers for a moment. Dick turns and pokes his head back into the car.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you coming?”</p>
<p>Jason gives a heavy sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.” He locks the car behind him and follows Dick as he leads his way confidently inside, like he’s done this dozens of times. Jason follows a little more slowly. He remembers this place. He didn’t come here very often, but whenever he got more seriously ill or had an affliction that couldn’t be treated under Alfred’s medical expertise, this was the clinic Bruce took him to.</p>
<p>He moves to Dick’s side at the receptionist’s counter.</p>
<p>“I’m here to see Doctor Thompkins. My name is Richard Grayson.” Dick says with a winning smile to the lady behind the desk. Jason rolled his eyes at Dick’s antics.</p>
<p>“I’ll let her know you’re here.” Dick and Jason move over to a pair of open seats and settle in.</p>
<p>“This’ll be fun.” Jason says dryly.</p>
<p>Dick makes a face at him. “Cheer up. It’s not you they’re working on. You’re just along for the ride.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that and being able to take videos of you in your drugged out state.”</p>
<p>“Jay!” Dick says, but he smiles. Jason picks up a magazine off a table right next to him to escape conversation, but when he realizes it’s a home and garden magazine he sets it right back down. They don’t wait long before a door off to the side opens and a nurse calls Dick’s name.</p>
<p>Dick stands, and Jason reluctantly follows. He’s still a bit put out that he got dragged into this in the first place. They head through the halls, passing a few examination rooms before they are ushered into a room of their own.</p>
<p>“Wait here, please.” The nurse says, gesturing in. She closes the door behind them. Dick hops up onto the examination table with surprising grace for an injured person. He kicks his legs gently, grinning at Jason. Jason glares back with equal fervor.</p>
<p>“Stop looking at me like that. What are you, five?”</p>
<p>Dick just smiles. Idiot.</p>
<p>Jason sits in a chair off to the side, pettily not looking at Dick. They don’t wait long before the door is opening again.</p>
<p>A familiar, silver-haired woman slips into the room, friendly wrinkles appearing around her eye as she smiles.</p>
<p>“Hello, Richard.” She moves to his side, opening the computer on the counter and tapping a few keys. “How have you been?”</p>
<p> “I’m good.” Dick says. She nods, and her attention turns to Jason. When it does, her eyebrows jump up.</p>
<p>“Jason?”</p>
<p>“Hey, Doc.” Jason says. It’s been a while since he’s seen her. Doctor Leslie Thompkins has been his doctor since the dark ages. She’s pretty much seen him since he was a hormonal thirteen-year-old. After he and Bruce had their issues, and Jason went off on his own, he didn’t come in as often. He came in, but being in the waiting room where memories of Bruce sitting beside him with maybe the occasional comforting hand on his shoulder is too much. So he avoided coming in as much as possible. That isn’t to say he didn’t come in, but only when he really couldn’t avoid it.</p>
<p>“How are you?” She asks, moving in closer to look him over. Jason patiently endures her examination. Leslie is a nice woman who Jason has nothing against. If he’s being honest, he might even say that he’s rather fond of her.</p>
<p>“I’m good, Doc.” Jason allows her a smile.</p>
<p>“But you’re not the one who needs attending to.” Leslie turns back to Dick. “Let’s see how you’re holding up.” She gestures for Dick to remove his shirt, and he complies with slightly strained motions. His shoulder and torso are tightly wrapped in clean cloth bindings. Leslie helps him remove the dressings and examines the wound.</p>
<p>Jason can’t help but peek, too. He’s seen his fair share of injuries, and he’s admittedly curious to how badly Dick has been hurt. He can see the small, scarring wound where the projectile had hit Dick. Jason watches mutely as Leslie pokes and prods the wound, and Dick makes a face.</p>
<p>“It’s healing nicely. You should be fully recovered right on schedule and ready to get back on the force. You’ll definitely have a scar, though.”</p>
<p>“That’s fine.” Dick grins. “The girls will love it.” Jason scoffs quietly. That’s Dick Grayson for you.</p>
<p>Leslie smiles lightly at him. “Well, let’s get going with the rest of the appointment. We should have you out of here in no time.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Doctor Leslie.” Dick says, pliantly allowing Leslie to finish examining his wound. Leslie continues to explain the rest of the procedure to Dick, but Jason tunes out. He doesn’t really care what they’re doing. He’s just here to be the designated driver.</p>
<p>At some point, Leslie produces a large needle, and Jason wrinkles his nose and looks away. He’s not exactly squeamish, per se, but he’d really rather not watch. So he ignores whatever Leslie is doing and instead counts the tiles on the floor.</p>
<p>Twenty minutes later, to Jason’s relief, they’re done. Dick doesn’t seem overly drugged, but then again, he always acts like an idiot, so Jason’s not sure if he’ll be able to tell.</p>
<p>Leslie rewraps Dick’s shoulder and he redresses. “I’ll see you out.” She smiles and holds the door open for them. Dick leads the way and Jason wordlessly follows. “It’s been a while, Jason. Might I be seeing more of you in the future?”</p>
<p>Jason shrugs, uncommitted. “Maybe.”</p>
<p>“I certainly hope so.” She smiles and pats his shoulder. “You’re always welcome.”</p>
<p>Jason doesn’t have to fake a smile for her. Leslie’s something else. She waves and lets them back into the waiting room, closing the door behind them.</p>
<p>“Let me schedule my next appointment and then we can go home.” Dick says, making for the receptionist’s desk again. Jason leans on a wall a bit away, tapping his foot softly as he watches Dick. He waits a few minutes as Dick charms the girl behind the desk and hopefully actually gets something done. Then they’re heading back to the car. Dick tosses the keys to Jason—who has to stretch to catch them, so maybe Dick is a little bit off. Jason climbs into the driver’s seat.</p>
<p>“Mmm, yeah, this is a nice car.” Jason says, rubbing the steering wheel affectionately.</p>
<p>“Be nice to her.” Dick says. “Don’t be mean.” He had said it in slightly thick voice, and Jason suspects that the drugs were working his way through his system a little more.</p>
<p>“You got it.” Jason says in a placating tone. As they drive, Dick leans a little drowsily on the door. Jason tries not to chuckle at him a bit. Dick’s laughable at the best of times, and now he’s almost hilarious.</p>
<p>“Jay?” Dick says.</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Are you going to come home?”</p>
<p>Jason’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. He doesn’t answer right away. He’s sure Dick wouldn’t have asked that if he wasn’t on whatever the hell Leslie gave him. He’s not sure how to answer. He isn’t sure if he really has a home right now. The first thing that comes into his mind with the word is his old apartment that he’d had with the band. That obviously wasn’t an option anymore. The next thing is Tim’s sofa, specifically with Tim on it. That wasn’t an option either. It’s been years since he considered the manor home.</p>
<p>So he can’t really answer that because he doesn’t really have a home. But he knows what Dick meant. Is he going to stay at the manor?</p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Because he doesn’t. He’s fairly certain his extended presence at the manor would not be welcome. He’s been lucky enough to avoid Bruce this far, but his luck won’t hold much longer. He won’t be surprised if Bruce throws him out on the front steps.</p>
<p>But he doesn’t have anywhere else to go now. His job search has been unfruitful, and without an income he can’t get back on his own feet. So he’s staying at the manor, at least for now.</p>
<p>“I’d like it if you did.” Dick says.</p>
<p>“You’d be the only one.” Jason says with a bitter twist to his mouth.</p>
<p>“That’s not true.” Dick says. “You always have a place here.”</p>
<p>Jason’s knuckles whiten at their grip on the wheel. He doesn’t say anything else, just keeps driving. He doesn’t know what to think.</p>
<p>.                       .                       .</p>
<p>“Alright, Dickie, let’s get you inside.” Jason turns off the car and climbs out, moving around the car to help Dick, who looks woozier each minute. Jason just puts a light hand on his arm and guides him towards the garage door leading inside.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to do that, Jay.” Dick says. “I’m fine, really.” Jason snorts. Dick would be more convincing if he wasn’t wavering slightly in place, swaying in a very not-Dick-Grayson way.</p>
<p>“Sure you are.” Jason doesn’t remove his hand, even as they move inside and towards the parlor that seems to be family’s main hangout.</p>
<p>Jason helps Dick to his spot, and is about to turn away when a voice that haunts his memories rises behind him.</p>
<p>“Jason?” Jason slowly turns, despite already knowing without doubt who spoke.</p>
<p>“Bruce.” The man is frozen in the doorway, his large bulk dwarfing the door.</p>
<p>“What are you doing here?” Bruce’s tone seems accusatory, and Jason’s defenses instantly rise.</p>
<p>“Taking care of <em>your</em> sons, who I guess you couldn’t bother to make time for.”</p>
<p>“Jason.” Dick says, his turn to put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. Jason isn’t sure if it’s meant to be a comforting gesture or if it was him getting into a better position to restrain Jason if push came to shove—as it so often did between Bruce and Jason.</p>
<p>Bruce is silent, no moment from him aside from a narrowing of his eyes.</p>
<p>“Bruce, it’s fine. I called him.” Dick says, moving to stand by Jason’s side.</p>
<p>“Is he staying here?” Bruce says to Dick, and it makes Jason’s blood boil.</p>
<p>“I’m right here, old man. Or are you going to ignore me—again?” Jason can’t help being belligerent. It’s what he knows how to do best with Bruce.</p>
<p>Dick’s gaze shifts between them rapidly, trying to keep his eye on both of them as much as he can. Bruce doesn’t react visibly to Jason’s comment, but Jason knows he’s gotten under his skin. It’s one of his many talents.</p>
<p>“Yes. I asked him to come by and help out when Damian was sick.” Dick says.</p>
<p>“Since apparently you couldn’t be bothered to take care of your own son—but we already knew that was a pattern with you, huh?” Jason says with a grin that’s all malice and no humor.</p>
<p>“Jason!” Dick says, gripping his shoulder tightly. Jason shoots him an annoyed look that says stay out of it. Dick, because he’s a stubborn idiot, ignores him.</p>
<p>“Jason’s having a rough time right now and he’s staying here for a little while.” Dick says, like Bruce doesn’t get a say in the matter and it’s simply a decision Dick has already made for them. Jason jerks his shoulder out of Dick’s grip. He doesn’t need his help. Jason is about to tell Bruce exactly what he thinks about him, when he is interrupted by the arrival of Alfred. That man must have a sense for when trouble is brewing, because he always arrives right on time.</p>
<p>“Master Jason, Master Bruce. Excellent, you’ve reacquainted. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m afraid I must steal Mater Jason for assistance in the kitchen.” With that, Alfred (forcibly) whisks Jason away and leaves Bruce and Dick in the hall behind them. Jason doesn’t mean to heave a sigh of relief, but he doesn’t really try to hide it, either.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Alf.” Jason says once they are out of reasonable hearing distance. Alfred shoots him a sly smile.</p>
<p>“Of course, Master Jason.”</p>
<p>.                       .                       .</p>
<p>Jason doesn’t interact with Bruce much for the rest of the day. They all eat dinner together, but Jason and Bruce don’t speak to one another outside of, “pass the salt,” and other meaningless small talk. There had been a conflict brewing in the hall earlier, and if Alfred and Dick hadn’t been there to mediate, Jason might be back out in the cold rather than here. Instead, the fight was diverted, and Bruce seems content to ignore whatever issues that are between them for the time being, as is Jason. He can deal with ignoring Bruce. It’s not like Bruce cares about him, so as long as he stays out of the way and doesn’t make a nuisance of himself, he should be able to avoid any major confrontations.</p>
<p>Normally, he might jump at a chance to pick a fight, but after everything he’s just lingering on the side of exhaustion. Take Dick to doctor’s appointments, tolerate Damian, and not fight with Bruce. These are the things that, apparently, Jason can do when he’s too preoccupied with other thoughts and dead tired of feelings.</p>
<p>After dinner, the family scatters, but Dick and Jason end up in the same room. Jason settles back into a chair in the library with his book, and Dick’s doing whatever the hell he’s doing. They sit in quiet companionship for a while, but Jason is suspicious. After all, this is Dick Grayson. There’s no way he can be still and quiet for that long.</p>
<p>Sure enough, after an (impressive) thirty minutes, Dick closes his book and looks up, hopping over to the spot next to Jason.</p>
<p>“Jason.” He says after Jason doesn’t immediately acknowledge him.</p>
<p>Jason sighs and puts his book down as well.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about Bruce.”</p>
<p>“Dick.” Jason says, intending to cut him off, but Dick persists.</p>
<p>“Really. I want you here. Alfred wants you here. Damian’s even finding it in himself to tolerate you, which for him is saying a lot. And whether Bruce says so or not, he’s glad you’re here. He misses you.” Dick says, and Jason snorts. “Honestly, Jay. He does. He’s just… Bruce. He doesn’t know how to say stuff.”</p>
<p>Well, it’s undeniable that Bruce’s interpersonal communication skills are subpar at best. Nevertheless, Jason has a hard time believing Bruce legitimately wants him around. Why would he? Jason is the screw-up, black sheep of the family, forever a blemish under Bruce’s name. It’s going to take a lot more than Dick’s word to convince Jason otherwise. But, if it’ll get Dick off his case, he’ll nod his head and look agreeable to pacify him.</p>
<p>“Okay.” Jason says slowly and patiently, like he’s waiting for Dick to get to the point. Dick sighs and shakes his head.</p>
<p>“Just…” He pauses. “Just wanted you to know, little wing, that I’m not going to let Bruce push you out of the nest because you two are too stubborn to talk out your issues.”</p>
<p>“I’m not that stubborn!” Jason says. Dick laughs.</p>
<p>“Sure thing, Jason. Whatever you say.” Jason grumbles and picks his book back up. Dick picks his book up too, but stays in the spot next to Jason. Jason wouldn’t say Dick’s speech had any effect on his stance with Bruce, but maybe he and Dick are a little closer now. It’s almost nice.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A note about my take on Jason in this universe: while they're not crimefighters or regularly in dangerous situations, Jason's backstory is still a little similar in that he did have a major near-death experience when he was younger. Rather than being the result of the Joker, Jason was caught in a workplace accident as the result of negligence. A Wayne Enterprises warehouse caught on fire with Jason inside, and he almost died. However, he was able to be rescued and scraped by.<br/>After that, though, Bruce becomes almost overbearingly overprotective of Jason, and he and Jason chafe more and more. Jason, traumatized by the event, acts out more and more, until eventually their relationship reaches a breaking point. Jason leaves the manor and runs with a bad crowd for a while, his life spiraling down but still too stubborn to accept and help or guidance from Bruce, and Bruce being too proud and emotionally stunted to communicate with Jason. Eventually, though, Jason straightens his life out a bit. He moves in with Kori and Roy, find his music, and doesn't talk to his family. And that leaves us where the story begins.<br/>I had wanted to integrate that into this story, but it just didn't fit the way I wanted it to. Maybe it would be its own short companion piece? Anyway, wanted you all to have that piece of the backstory even if it doesn't fit here. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just read 'The Lost Carnival' which is a standalone graphic novel with Dick Grayson in his circus days and it was so cute?? Would 10/10 recommend, the art was so fun!</p><p>Aside from that, let's catch back up with Jason and the family!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monday comes with little fanfare. Damian is taken to school by Dick, Bruce leaves early to go to work, and Alfred is busy buzzing around the manor in true Alfred fashion, so Jason has the run of the manor, at least for a little while. He’s not entirely sure what to do with himself. It seems to be an issue as of late.</p><p>He probably should keep looking for a job. He grabs his bike and swings out to Gotham. He drops by the supermarket to grab a paper to leaf through. At the last moment, he adds a pack of cigarettes to his purchase. He’s been feeling a bit of the nicotine itch. Alfred might have his head for it, but he thinks he can sneak it by. Then again, it’s Alfred he’s talking about, so maybe not. He buys them anyway.</p><p>He drives back through Gotham, avoiding the streets that he frequented with Tim. He drives by his favorite diner, and is tempted to stop. Then he remembers sitting in a back booth with Tim chatting and laughing, and he drives his bike a little faster. If everything could stop reminding him of Tim, that would be great.</p><p>When he gets back to the manor, he busies himself with rifling through the paper and making calls, trying to see if any jobs are available. He jots down information, schedules and interview or two, and mostly gains a sense of despair. The Gotham job market has never been good, and Jason has never been prime hiring material, so finding someplace with decent pay and hours is proving to be very difficult.</p><p>He wastes several hours on the endeavor with little to show for it. Eventually, as the time ticks away and Damian is probably getting picked up about now. Jason packs up his job-search supplies and tosses them up in his room.</p><p>He occupies himself doing nothing in his room, not stirring even when he hears the tromping of feet indicating that Damian and Dick had returned home. He settles down on top of his comforter and opens his book. He’s nearly done, so once he finishes he’ll have to go do something else. He savors the peace and quiet while it lasts.</p><p>Before he knows it an hour and a half have slipped by, and he’s setting the book aside in favor of venturing back downstairs.</p><p>He creeps down the stairs, not really feeling like dealing with Dick’s overwhelmingly bright attitude or Bruce’s depressingly dour one. He lingers at the bottom of the stairs, unsure where to go when he hears muffled thumping coming from the direction of the garage. Curious, he opens the door and pokes his head in.</p><p>He’s not expecting to find Damian by himself in there. He’s pretty sure the kid is at least half a decade away from being legally old enough to drive, so he’s not sure why he’s sitting tinkering away underneath the hood of the car. Damian doesn’t acknowledge him when he comes in, so Jason just moves to stand behind him, quietly observing as Damian works.</p><p>Jason watches as he struggles to remove a piece, and he shakes his head slightly from behind. He’s doing it all wrong. After about five minutes, Damian huffs and turns to face him, wiping sweat from his brow and smearing a little bit of grease on his forehead.</p><p>“What do you want, Todd?” He snaps, glaring darkly. “Or are you just going to stand there all day and watch me work? Don’t you have anything better to do with your life?”</p><p>Jason shrugs, unoffended, and pushes away from the surface he had been leaning on.</p><p>“You’d be able to do that a lot easier if you use this.” He leans over and grabs a tool, demonstrating what he meant. He loosens the piece Damian had been working on with ease. The boy scowled, the expression out of place on his youthful face.</p><p>“I don’t need your help, Todd.”</p><p>“Sure you don’t. But you’d get it done a lot faster if you let me help.” Jason shrugs. He doesn’t really care one way or the other. But he’s not lying; he knows his way around a vehicle. It was a hobby of his before—well, before. After he went out on his own, he spent less time around cars for fun and more out of necessity because their old junk-pile of a car had broken down again. He still remembers working on higher end vehicles, and he can certainly show Damian a thing or two.</p><p>Damian gives him an appraising look, clutching a tool in his hand. Then, he wordlessly hands it to Jason. Jason grins and beckons him in, leaning over the machinery.</p><p>“So, here’s the deal.”</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>“Admit it, kid. I helped you out.” Jason says. He and Damian are sprawled in the garage, himself sitting precariously on the hood of another car—Bruce would have kittens, which is the main reason he’s doing it—and Damian is leaning against the side of the car they’d been working on. They had spent ages pouring over the car, Damian actually being a really good learner once he got past his haughty attitude and assumptions that he automatically knew more than any other person in the room.</p><p>The sun is on the verge of brushing against the tree-lined horizon, yellowing light streaming in through the open garage door hand in hand with the refreshingly chilly air. The night is surprisingly clear, and Jason is surprisingly actually enjoying spending time with Damian. He isn’t sure what the world had come to for that to be true, but he is just appreciating spending time with someone who doesn’t make him think of Tim at every gesture and word.</p><p>He winces. Never mind, there it is again. Damn it. He sips on the soda he’d grabbed, looking away from the peaceful sky.</p><p>“You were… adequate.” Damian says, drawing him out of his head. Jason makes an expression of mock surprise.</p><p>“Adequate? Careful, now, Damian. One might start to think you don’t actually hate everyone.” He laughs. Damian makes a face and throws his now empty soda can at Jason.</p><p>“Shut up, Todd. You are simply useful, and nothing more.”</p><p>“The child doth protest too much, methinks.” Jason says. Damian shoots him another look.</p><p>“Quoting Shakespeare now?” Damian gives an annoyed tut. “How insufferable.” Jason just grins.</p><p>“You did good today.” Jason says, changing the subject. “You’re a natural with cars.”</p><p>“Of course I am.” Damian is haughty.</p><p>“Whatever. If you want, we can do this again tomorrow.” Jason offers. Why not? It’s not like he’s got anything better to do, and it’d be nice to have some sort of purpose or direction in his life, even if it is something as small and insignificant as helping Damian.</p><p>“I suppose that would be acceptable.” The young Wayne agrees.</p><p>“It’s a date.”</p><p>“Don’t be disgusting.”</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>“Right! That’s it.” Dick leans forward in his chair and swings out of it, dusting himself off with his good hand. Jason and Damian stop their meaningless bickering that they had been exchanging back and forth and look at Dick. “Come on. We’re all going stir-crazy in here. We’re going out.” There is silence for a moment after Dick’s announcement.</p><p>“No.” Jason says flatly.</p><p>“Jason, come on. We’ll just go and grab ice-cream real quick.”</p><p>“No.” Jason repeats. If Dick seriously thinks he is going to drive him and the demon-spawn out to the city for ice-cream, he’s got another thing coming. “I’m not taking you out.”</p><p>“Yes, Todd is right. Don’t be so childish, Grayson.”</p><p>“Please?” Dick says, mustering a pathetic expression in an attempt to evoke sympathy. Jason crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. There’s not a person who can budge him on this. He’s not taking Dick Grayson and his kooky little brother out to get ice-cream, and there’s not a person who can change his mind, except maybe—</p><p>“I think it’s an excellent idea.” Alfred says, slipping in through the parlor doorway. Alfred. Jason groans internally. He already knows the battle’s lost before it’s begun. “In fact, I will chauffeur you all.” He gives a pleasant smile that demands compliance in the most Alfred-like way.</p><p>“I will decline, as I have business here that bears attending to.” Damian says, his crossed arms and cocked hip belying his cool tone.</p><p>“Nonsense! It is about time the family went out together.” Alfred says, shredding Damian’s attempt at escape.</p><p>“Family sans Bruce.” Jason grumbles. Not that he minds. Hah. Ice cream with Bruce Wayne. There’s a time when he wouldn’t have wanted anything more. Today, he can’t get far enough away.</p><p>“Yes, alas. Master Bruce is tied up at the office. Nevertheless, we are long overdue for a family outing.”</p><p>“And there’s no getting out of it.” Jason continues under his breath. Alfred smiles.</p><p>“Quite right, Master Jason.”</p><p>Jason won’t say he pouted, as Jason Todd does not pout, but he definitely sulks. He practices his irate brooding on the car ride out to Gotham. Despite his bravado, Jason actually doesn’t mind going out. Since he helped Damian out in the garage yesterday, the kid has been acting surprisingly tolerable. Mind you, he’s still a rude and arrogant brat, but less of his jibes are directed at Jason himself, which Jason suspects is as close as they’ll come to a truce.</p><p>Alfred parks in a lucky spot on the street and unlocks the doors, and they step out into the Gotham air. Despite the chilly turn October has been taking, the day is surprisingly nice, one of those last optimistically warm days before bitter winter settles in. It was deceptively pleasant, enough so that getting ice-cream didn’t seem that illogical.</p><p>They crowd into the small parlor located on a city corner, the sounds of cars and people and general city noises all around them.</p><p>“Hey there, folks. What can I get for you today?” The man behind the counter smiles, a crooked-tooth grin stretching out under his graying mustache.</p><p>“Can I get a large scoop of cookie dough? No, mint.” Dick says, moving up to the counter to peer through the glass at the rainbow assortment of flavors. “No, no, sorry, make that birthday cake.”</p><p>“Birthday cake? Are you kidding me, Grayson?” Damian looks outraged. “That’s disgusting.”</p><p>“Come on, Damian. It wasn’t that bad. I only made you try it once.”</p><p>“And once was far too much.” Damian scowls, trying to slide away from Dick, who threw his arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders. He shakes him off. “A small scoop of vanilla for me.” Damian says coolly, acting as regal as ever. Jason places his order for Neapolitan, and Alfred a toffee flavor. Then, they take their food and start walking back outside.</p><p>Dick talks his head off, per norm. Jason quietly eats his ice cream. It’s ridiculously nostalgic, and Jason would fervidly deny that he’s happy. Still, he can’t quite stop the corners of his mouth from quirking up. Without Bruce lingering like a dark cloud over the family, he’s almost enjoying being here.</p><p>“Want a bite, Jason?” Dick tilts his cone towards Jason. Jason makes a face at him, but it’s hard to look menacing when he’s holding a multicolored ice cream cone. Dick just chuckles.</p><p>The group wanders the streets, heading into the business district. Jason can see the tall and dark form Wayne Enterprises glaring over the tops of the buildings around them, like a watchful shadow. Jason looks away, focusing on the architecture getting grander and grander as they head into the nicer part of town. The crowds get a bit thicker, and their coats a bit nicer. Jason shouldn’t be surprised to have an incident sooner or later.</p><p>“Hey, hey!” A man’s voice pipes up from behind them. They don’t stop at first, but the man jogs around in front of them, halting their progress. Jason lowers the cone from his mouth suspiciously. “Hey, you guys are the Waynes, right?”</p><p>Dick smiles, but it is puzzled. “Yes, that’s us.”</p><p>The man smiles, whipping out a recording device.</p><p>“I’m with the Gotham Gazette. I was hoping to get a few words.” The man steps closer, broaching past the standard bubble of casual space.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Alfred says, stepping out and in front of the boys. “The boys will not be taking any questions right now.” He puts out placating hands, but the guys sidesteps him.</p><p>“Richard, right? Or do you prefer Dick? Richie?” The guy leans in more.</p><p>Jason narrows his eyes. This guy is getting a little too close and personal.</p><p>“Can you tell me about Bruce’s deal with Drake Enterprises? Do you know why the deal hasn’t been wrapped up yet?”                </p><p>Dick tries to give another smile, but it is thinned by the recording device being held right up to his face.</p><p>“Look, mister…” He pauses. “I didn’t get your name.”</p><p>“Richard, what do you think Bruce means by delaying this deal’s conclusion. Is Bruce having second thoughts?” The man’s voice comes in quick, clipped words, as if he’s trying to get them out as fast as possible. Dick’s smile stays frozen on his face but his eyes show how quickly his humor is bleeding away.</p><p>Jason narrowed his eyes, body tensing.</p><p>“Hey, we’re just having a family outing. We’re not taking any questions right now.” Dick says, his voice smooth despite the tightening of his eyes.</p><p>“Just a few quick ones!” The man insists, not backing out of the group’s personal space. Jason loathes paparazzi. They have no respect for anybody’s boundaries, and if they get too pushy, Jason won’t be responsible for what happens next. The man’s eyes flick to the rest of the group, scanning Jason and briefly lingering on Damian. “Where’s Bruce? At the office?”</p><p>None of them say anything, but the man reads confirmation in their slight shifting.</p><p>“Too busy to be with his family, hmm?” The reporter raises his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips. Jason feels a flash of anger run through him, heating up the space inside his head and making him grit his teeth. “Daddy too busy for his boys?”</p><p>“That’s enough.” Jason growls, steeping out from the back of the group to put his face right in the other guy’s. Just what kind of reporter was he, antagonizing a family out to get ice cream?</p><p>“And who are you? New help?” The reporter gives him a contemptuous once-over. Jason shoves down the twitch of annoyance that jolts through him.</p><p>“Back off, man. I won’t say it twice.” Jason says, using his extra inch of height to loom over the guy. The reporter met his gaze with narrowed eyes, like a predator sizing up a competitor. Jason can feel a static tension between them, but he’s sure as hell not going to let the guy win.</p><p>“Who do you think you are?” The man says, eyes flashing. “The next Wayne brat?”</p><p>Jason jerks to shove him back a step, but Dick is moving behind him, clasping a firm hand on his shoulder. <em>Don’t</em>. Jason clenches a fist, takes a deep breath, turns away.</p><p>“Yeah, thought so.” Mutters the man from behind. “Damn rich boys, just like Wayne.”</p><p>Jason whirls around, forgotten cone dropping to the ground, fist connecting with the man’s jaw. The bruising pain in his knuckles is nothing but satisfying.</p><p>“Jason!” Dick exclaims, the group generally erupting into chaos. Jason keeps his back on Alfred and Dick and Damian, glowering at the reporter. The man had staggered, but he straightens.</p><p>“Leave us the hell alone.” Jason glares the man down, the turns on his heel and starts walking. He leaves the cries of lawsuits and police behind. Moments later Dick is falling in step.</p><p>“Jason. Jason!” He says, hurrying to keep up with Jason’s powerful, angry strides. Jason doesn’t slow for him. “Will you just stop?”</p><p>“What, so you can tell me off? No thanks.”</p><p>“No!” Dick says. He dashes in front of Jason, blocking his path. “We’re not mad. If you hadn’t punched that guy, I might’ve.” Jason has to stop at that. “Come on, Alfred’s going to bring the car around.” Jason doesn’t move for a moment, then releases a long breath.</p><p>“Sure. Whatever.” He walks back with Dick to where Damian is tapping his foot impatiently. The reporter is gone.</p><p>“Are you done with your dramatics, Todd?”</p><p>“Shove it, brat.” Jason snarls. Damian sniffs and folds his arms. Dick just sighs. Jason stares at his cone on the dirty pavement, watching the pink and white and brown bleed in with the gray-black of the Gotham streets. So much for their little family outing. Jason’s not surprised things went this way. It’s Gotham, after all. The city has a nice way of taking anything that might resemble a normal, happy day and treading on it until it’s crumpled and battered. Jason grimaces. Yeah, this is so much fun.</p><p>Alfred pulls up in the car, and the boys climb in. They’re several minutes away from the site of incidence before anyone speaks.</p><p>“Master Jason—”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Jason says, glassy stare snapping away from the skyline. “Punching people is bad, shame on you, yada, yada, yada.” Alfred raises an eyebrow in the mirror.</p><p>“Actually, I was going to remark on your excellent speed to defend Master Bruce.”</p><p>Jason jerks as if shocked, flushing. “That’s not—I didn’t—” Jason is spluttering and rushing too quickly to justify himself, and he knows it. “The guy was a jackass.”</p><p>“Language, Master Jason.” Alfred says, but he smiles as he does. They drive over a bridge, the water reflecting the same murky gray as the sky, and then he’s speaking again. “For a man who claims not to care or belong to the family, you did an excellent job defending it today.”</p><p>Jason huffs and glares at the cars passing by. Dick leans over and shoves him gently. Jason’s ears stay red for a while.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Jason should have known his luck in avoiding Bruce wouldn’t have lasted forever. It was inevitable that they would have to talk to each other at some point. It wasn’t that it was hard for Jason and Bruce to go on ignoring each other. That was remarkably easy. Jason didn’t want to talk to Bruce, Bruce didn’t want to talk to Jason, so no issues should have arisen. However, the rest of the family refused to let things be. Family being Dick. In retrospect, Jason should have seen Dick’s plotting from a mile away.</p><p>“Jason?” Dick interrupts his tranquil newspaper reading in the parlor.</p><p>“What?” Jason says tersely, sharply putting the paper down.</p><p>“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was trying to do some paperwork for Bruce, but a bunch of the boxes I need are up too high for me to get down…” Dick rubs sheepishly at his healing shoulder. Jason tips his head back and sighs.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Jason tosses the paper aside and follows Dick through the halls of the manor. Dick pulls open the door to an office cluttered with boxes up high and on the desk and under the desk and just about everywhere in between. Jason glances with a furrowed brow at Dick for confirmation, who nods and gestures for him to go in first. Jason looks at the literal dozens of boxes and back to Dick.</p><p>“So…” Jason held out the word. “Which box?”</p><p>“Oh!” Dick jumps slightly. “Um. I’m not sure. I need to find the box with records from the developmental department, and I know it’s up there, but I’m not sure where.” Jason looks again at the dusty crates crammed full of things and signs for the umpteenth time.</p><p>“Great.” He drawls. “I’ll get started.” He pulls up a sturdy looking chair and climbs up, reaching for the first box.</p><p>“Thanks, Jay!” Dick says. “I’ll be right back. There’s something I need to grab.” He vanishes out the doorway, and Jason just shakes his head as he sets the box down on the desk to peek inside. He disturbs a cloud of dust that he waves away. There are documents and files, but when he pulls them out, they’re not Wayne Enterprise related. He’s not sure what they are, but he doesn’t really care all that much, so he closes it back up and goes for the next one.</p><p>This one has a few files, but is mostly filled with old picture frames and a couple of dusty trophies. His interest caught, he pulled one out and dusted of the plaque to read.</p><p>Bruce Wayne. The name and year were carved onto the gilded surface that matched the figure holding at bat. Jason stares in surprise. He didn’t know Bruce played baseball. He did a quick calculation; the trophy was from what were probably Bruce’s high school years. Jason sets it back down in the box and picks up another one. Same name, same sport, different year. Jason reaches for another, expecting the same, but freezes when he reads a different name. His own name.</p><p>He completely forgot about this. It was from his early high school years. He had made the varsity baseball team, and won this. He’s honestly shocked Bruce still had it. He flashes back to the hard practices after school and the dust of the fields and the buzz of a crowd on the bleachers, always wondering if Bruce would be amongst the crowds this time. He almost never was. Jason frowned and put the trophy back down. He selected one of the picture frames instead.</p><p>The dust clouded the image, which Jason wiped away with his sleeve. His chest tightened painfully when he looked at the image. Two figures seated on a sofa, the smaller and younger leaning on the older’s shoulder, fast asleep. Jason recognized himself even with his sickly complexion and ruddy nose from the flu. He remembers this night. It’s one of his happiest memories, not that he would ever admit that.</p><p>He had been sick, but determined not to stop or slow down. Bruce had talked him into taking the day off, and in fact had taken the day himself. They sat down to watch movies together on that sofa, but Jason had fallen asleep barely ten minutes into the first film. He doesn’t remember ever seeing this photo before, and now it stirred something in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t realize he was lost in thought until a voice pulled him out.</p><p>“I remember that night.” Jason startled slightly, looking down to see Bruce in the entrance to the room. Jason glanced at the frame again, then back to Bruce. “We were watching The Mark of Zorro.” Bruce recognized the picture just by the frame. Jason didn’t say anything, just stared wide-eyed. Bruce walked closer, holding out his hand for the photo. Jason silently handed it to him.</p><p>“What do you want?” He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. Bruce didn’t answer for a second.</p><p>“Dick said—” The door was pulled shut outside, and both of their heads snapped towards it when they heard a quiet click.</p><p>“What?” Jason strode over to it, grabbing the handle. It was locked. “Are you kidding me?” He growled.</p><p>“Dick said you needed help.” Bruce said quietly.</p><p>“Oh my god—Dick!” Jason yelled through the door. “Open this right now.”</p><p>“Sorry.” Dick said unapologetically through the door. “You and Bruce need to talk, and I’m not letting you out until you do.”</p><p>“Richard Grayson, enough.” Bruce said firmly. “Unlock this door. Stop fooling around.”</p><p>“I’m not fooling around. You and Jay are long overdue for this talk, and if this is the only way to get you to have it, so be it.”</p><p>“Dick!” Jason yelled, thumping his fist on the door.</p><p>“Nope.” Dick sings. Jason growls and rattles the door handle.</p><p>“Hold on.” Jason says to Bruce. He goes back to the desk and finds a little tub of paperclips. “I think I can pick it.” Being a street kid for a while did have its benefits. He’s working on jimmying the lock open when he hears a scraping noise from out in the hall.</p><p>“Dick?” Jason says, pausing.</p><p>“I’m serious, you two. Talk it out!” The scraping gets closer and stops in front of the door.</p><p>Jason narrows his eyes and tests the handle. It gives, but when he tries to push the door open, he can’t.</p><p>“He barricaded the door.” Bruce said with a thin expression.</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” Jason said, throwing his hands up. “Grow up, dickhead.”</p><p>“Language, Jason.” Bruce said automatically.</p><p>“Don’t start now.” Jason snaps. Bruce clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything else. He moved to Jason’s side and helped shove on the door. It didn’t budge. “Great.” Jason snarls.</p><p>“Dick!” Bruce called once more.</p><p>“I’ll be back in an hour or so. You and Jason better have made up by then or I won’t let you out.” Dick threatened.</p><p>“Dick. Dick!” Jason said again, but the man’s footsteps were already padding away. “Damn him!”</p><p>“Jason, that’s enough.” Bruce said softly.</p><p>“What? Don’t tell me you’re not upset either. Just leave me alone. That’s what you want to do, anyway, right?” Bruce doesn’t respond right away, looking contemplatively at Jason.</p><p>“You know that’s not true.” He said finally. His face was stonily calm, like his expression had been chiseled into his marble face.</p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Jason sneered. “I can’t imagine what’s given me the impression I’m unwelcome here. I mean, you’ve been nothing but warm since I arrived.” His fists were clenched at his sides. Why Dick thought this was a good idea, he didn’t know. Him and Bruce, making up? As if. They’re more likely to tear each other to pieces first.</p><p>“You’ve always been welcome.” Bruce said carefully, narrowing his eyes. Jason scoffed.</p><p>“Please. Don’t insult me any more. You were <em>glad</em> when I left the first time. One less thing for billionaire Bruce Wayne to worry about.” Jason just kept throwing insults out, hoping one of his barbs will get a rise out of the always stoic man. He just wants to see something on the man’s face. Anger, hate, compassion, he doesn’t care. Just anything but the same carefully sculpted mask Bruce always wore. Home, work, or hospital, that was always the face Bruce had for Jason. He was sick of it.</p><p>“Jason, you can’t really believe that.”</p><p>“See, that’s the problem, old man. You’re always trying to tell me what I can or can’t think. Well, guess what? You can’t.” Jason hissed, taking a step forward. “You can’t change who I am, so stop. Trying. To.” He punctuated each final word with a jab of his finger and angry curl of his lip. Jason turned away.</p><p>“You’re wrong.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Jason turned to face Bruce again.</p><p>“You’re wrong. I’m not trying to change you.” Jason raised a dubious eyebrow.</p><p>“Stop lying through your teeth. It’s not a good look on you.”</p><p>“I’m not lying.” Bruce said more loudly. “I’m— I’m sorry for the way things were between us before. You’re right to yell at me. I was wrong. But I’m not trying to change you now.”</p><p>“Like hell you’re not! You’re Bruce Wayne. I’m not sure you know how to exist and not try to control the people around you.”</p><p>“I know I haven’t been the best to our family, but—”</p><p>Jason laughs bitterly. “Do you know? How the hell would you know if you’re never even here? Hell, even <em>I’m </em>here for Dick and Damian more than you are. Do you know how shitty of a parent that makes you?”</p><p>“Jason, listen.” Bruce tried, but Jason was fed up. He was so sick of Bruce, sick of him trying to control Jason’s life, sick of him always looking down on Jason from afar while not even bothering to try! He was done. No more trying to bend until he broke, no more putting on a pretty smile for Bruce. No more. Jason is who he is, and he’s done trying to apologize for it. Jason could feel the fury rising up in him, hot and tumultuous like a roiling wave of boiling rage slopping around his insides and reaching the overload point. “I’m sorry, Jason.” Bruce said, and Jason lost it.</p><p>An incomprehensible cry tearing from his throat, he swung his fists at Bruce. The older man didn’t even try to dodge, going down with the first, powerful hit. Bruce caught himself on the wall, not even looking angry, despite the blood trickling from his nose.</p><p>“You selfish bastard!” Jason yelled. “You think you’re being so damn gracious, don’t you? Give me a little pat on the head and say you’re sorry, then everything will be okay? Do you even listen to yourself?”</p><p>“What do you want me to do, Jason?” He said in a low voice.</p><p>“Try caring for a goddamn minute in your life!” Jason was screaming, and his words finally broke through the shell.</p><p>“I’ve always cared!” Bruce roared, slugging Jason in the jaw. Jason fell back from the strike, pain exploding and whiting out the corners of his vision. “I’ve always cared about you, Jason! From the very minute I picked you up off the street, I cared!”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, so caring, taking in the pity-case orphan!” Jason shoved Bruce in his chest, jaw throbbing in time with his pounding heart. “You must be the most caring guy in the world to drag a stupid kid off the streets, wash him up, and pretend like you actually give a shit.”</p><p>“I do care, Jason!” The tendons of Bruce’s neck were pulled taut, his teeth bared as he shoved right back at Jason, putting himself right in Jason’s face. He was still just barely taller.</p><p>“Sure, just never as much as you cared about your real sons, right?”</p><p>“You are my son!” Bruce bellowed, grabbing Jason’s shoulders and squeezing tight. “You’re my son.” He repeated voice suddenly soft.</p><p>Just like that, the tension bled away. Jason didn’t move, didn’t shout, didn’t break from Bruce’s grasp. “You’ve always been and always will be my son, Jason. And I—” He swallowed. “I love you.”</p><p>Jason felt like all his layers were being peeled away by the suddenly soft look in Bruce’s eyes, his anger clattering to the floor, his rage evaporating into fine mist, his hurt peeling off and leaving him naked and vulnerable. It was just Jason and Bruce. Just them. Just a son and his father.</p><p>“I’m—” Jason started. Sorry. Not that angry, really. Okay. Bruce cut him off, pulling him to his shoulder in a tight hug.</p><p>“Shh. I know.” And Jason allowed himself to be held, put his arm up and hugged Bruce back.</p><p>It was going to be okay. They were going to be okay.</p><p>“Now.” Jason said, pulling away and clearing his throat when his voice came out rough. “I have some words for my dear brother.”</p><p>“You and me, both.” Bruce said as he wiped at his nose, a small smile tweaking his lips despite the smear of blood on his face. He clasped his clean hand on Jason’s shoulder. They were going to be okay.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>“Where are you going?” Dick leans on the doorway of the garage. Jason is getting ready to go, shrugging on his jacket and just grabbing the keys to his bike. His stomach feels like it’s climbed up into his throat.</p><p>“There’s something I’ve gotta do.” Jason says, as if he isn’t screaming internally. He shoots for total nonchalance, but Dick is unfortunately good at picking up clues.</p><p>“Is this about Tim?” Dick asks softly, his lips pursed gently.</p><p>“Yes.” Jason doesn’t look at Dick, instead focusing on climbing onto his bike.</p><p>“Is everything okay?”</p><p>“No. Everything is not okay. But I’m going to try and make it right.” Jason says. He is relieved to put his helmet on and hide his expression so Dick can’t readily decipher the nerves and dread playing out across his face.</p><p>“Okay.” Dick looks thoughtfully at him. “Take care.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Jason says, starting the motor of his bike. Then, he’s pulling out and heading back into the city. The fall weather is surprisingly amicable today, and Jason thinks he would appreciate it more if he weren’t so nervous about going back to Tim’s.</p><p>Today is the day. The audition date. Even if Jason hadn’t been keeping track—he was—he’s not sure he could have forgotten it. It’s been burned into his mind from Tim’s constant worrying about it. He just hopes he’ll catch Tim in time.</p><p>The drive back to Tim’s apartment is more familiar that it should be for amount of times Jason has made the trip, but he feels like he could navigate there with his eyes closed. He doesn’t, obviously, but the drive passes quicker than he would like. When he parks outside the building he has to stop and ask himself what he’s doing here.</p><p>Jason had made a decision. He was leaving Tim alone, in the hopes that Tim wouldn’t be poisoned by Jason’s presence. He knows it’s the best thing for Tim. Then why is he here? Nasty words like selfish and clingy flick through his mind, but he does his best to dismiss them. He’s not here to stay. In and out with as little pain as possible; that’s that plan.</p><p>He holds his breath outside the door, debating knocking. Then again, what if Tim’s already gone? His fingers absently find the key Tim gave him in the pocket of his pants and slide it in before he’s even fully decided to just let himself in.</p><p>The door swings in and Jason steps inside and sees Tim immediately.</p><p>“Jason! You’re back!” Tim looks startled, and Jason’s breath hitches slightly in his chest when he gets a good look at Tim. The sleeves of his red shirt are pushed up to just before his elbows, exposing the soft-looking skin of his forearms. A black vest hugs Tim’s torso in a way that makes swallowing harder than normal for Jason. His hair is styled nicely, looking well-combed and silky.</p><p>“Hey, Tim. I’m here to get my things.” Jason winces internally. Now it sounds like he was just here on business. “And to wish you good luck.” Jason wants to slap himself. Why is this so hard? He and Tim have gotten along just fine before without issues, so he’s not quite sure why every breath seems like a battle to keep calm and contained. Despite Jason’s internal warring, Tim beams at him. His smile fills Jason with a warmth he didn’t realize he missed so much until he was tasting it again.</p><p>“Thanks, Jason.” Tim says, fingers twisting around. “I know you’re probably not staying long, but I’m really glad you’re here. It’s been horrible without you around.” Jason feels several emotions spike through him at Tim’s words. One second his heart leaps at the confession, then the next it’s plummeting into his stomach, because he didn’t come here for that. Still, it’s Tim and Jason flushes—hopefully imperceptibly—and looks Tim over from head to toe instead of replying.</p><p>“You look…” Jason’s not sure how to put Tim into words, when his lean, muscled form in those dark colors is doing funny things to his brain.</p><p>“That bad, huh?” Tim smiles wanly, a crease nestling between his brows.</p><p>“No.” Jason says just a hair too quickly. “You look professional.” Gorgeous. “You look like a damn winner.” Jason is struggling to break his gaze away from Tim, who looks unconvinced at Jason’s words.</p><p>“Thanks, Jason.” Tim sounds weary, which isn’t too surprising. If how bad things were a week before auditions were any indicator, this last week has been hell for Tim. Jason feels his insides twist with guilt for leaving Tim to face it alone. Was he doing okay? “Can I help you?” Tim asks, and Jason remembers the “reason” he came here in the first place. “I’m going stir crazy here by myself, waiting.”</p><p>Jason gives his best nonchalant shrug. “Sure. Whatever, kid.” Jason leads the way the room Tim had been lending to him. He left a majority of his things here, and he’s somewhat relived to see his guitar again.</p><p>Jason begins with the clothes in his chest of drawers, packing them into boxes from his closet that have barely been empty. Tim wordlessly fills the space around him, methodically packing things off a shelf. Jason flicks his eyes over to Tim when he’s focused on his work, watching the way his icy blue eyes seem so sharp when he’s focused on a task. It’s the same look he gives Jason, like he’s an enigma, something to be puzzled out. It’s a look that cuts into Jason like a knife and sends shivers down his spine. Then, Jason snaps his focus back to packing. God, what is he doing? He thought he could come here and reach some kind of closure with Tim, but nothing is working like it’s supposed to. Tim is distracting him in a dizzying way that Jason already forgot Tim could do.</p><p>Tim straightens from where he was bending over a box and turns to Jason with a half-smile. “This is from your band?” He’s holding a CD case that Jason recognizes quickly. It’s one of the Outlaw’s first albums—one of their best. His favorite. Jason stops moving. Wow, hello there, nostalgia. He hasn’t spent too much time thinking about Roy or Kori in these past few days, but they’re still his best friends. That album represents a chapter of Jason’s life that’s closed now, and it’s a painful reminder that this one is closing, too. Jason coughs and studies the sleek floors underfoot.</p><p>“Yeah.” He says a little roughly. He grabs another shirt and starts folding it, not meeting Tim’s eyes. “You can hold on to it. I don’t really want it anymore.” Stupid! What is Jason doing? Tim doesn’t want Jason’s crappy album. If Tim wants to listen to decent music, all he has to do is pick up his own instrument.</p><p>“Oh, no, I can’t!” Tim quickly says, and though Jason still isn’t watching him, he can hear the mild panic in the younger man’s voice.</p><p>“Keep it.” Jason says, trying to convey that he wants Tim to have this, that way—and it’s really dumb—when they’ve gone their separate ways for good, Tim would have a way to remember Jason, Well, he has his guitar, but that’s all Tim. This music, it’s Jason, and Jason wants Tim to have it. Tim still looks unsure, his brows slightly upturned, and Jason feels a flash of frustration run through him. “I don’t want to dwell on things I can’t have anymore.”</p><p>Wow. So much for being subtle. Jason mentally bangs his head on the nearest hard surface. Tim doesn’t comment on the wealth of subtext in Jason’s words, instead just murmuring a quiet okay and retuning to work. Jason takes a deep breath. He needs to get himself together about yesterday. Tim is probably wondering how soon he can get Jason out.</p><p>“So, did you find somewhere to stay?” Tim says, diplomatically trying to cover for Jason’s blunders.</p><p>“Yeah, I did.” Jason says. He doesn’t really feel like explaining the whole adoptive-billionaire parental figure thing, so he doesn’t bother. Wow. Way to go, Jason. Tim’s trying to make conversation and you shut it down just like that. Nice going. Jason kind of wants to stab himself.</p><p>“I’m glad. Not because I don’t want you here!” Tim says quickly. “I’m just glad you found a place to go.” Yeah, Tim was probably grateful Jason was no longer intruding on his life.</p><p>Well, that’s not true. Jason has known Tim too long to think that he would be that malicious to someone. He knows Tim is too nice to ever complain about Jason. The kid works so hard to please other people. That’s the problem. Jason won’t have Tim stretching himself any farther just to fit into the holes Jason has in his life. Tim has enough of his own problems without needing to worry about Jason’s petty ones. Jason’s a big boy. He can deal with Bruce and his issues on his own.</p><p>He has to.</p><p>“Yeah, well, it’s not ideal, but it’ll work.” Jason says in response, tensing slightly. Tim doesn’t ask and Jason doesn’t tell. They just keep packing.</p><p>Once Jason has a few more essentials boxed up and has collected the maximum amount of luggage his bike can handle (which is not a lot; his packing excuse seems pretty flimsy given he didn’t bring a car) he straightens and brushes off his hands.                     </p><p>“That’s enough. I’m just taking a bit of stuff because I’m on my bike.”</p><p>“Okay.” Tim nods dutifully and follows Jason to the living room with his arms laden with Jason’s possessions.</p><p>“What time are you leaving for auditions?” Jason asks, glancing at the clock on the wall.</p><p>“Any time now. My mother insisted on driving me up.” Tim says, the frustration and fatigue showing through his polished exterior. Jason frowned. God, what he would give to share his thoughts with Janet Drake. Still, he’d like to avoid her today. She’d rip him a new one. Not that Jason’s afraid of her. Poor Tim. At least he’s never had to live with her.</p><p>He sets the last box down and runs a hand through his hair. What does he do now? What does he say to Tim?</p><p>There are a thousand and one words lurking within Jason that Jason just wants to bare to Tim, to make him understand how much Jason cares, for reasons far beyond Jason’s understand. But Janet’s warning words claw through any feelings that make him want to grasp Tim’s thin, thin wrists and pull him closer. Jason watches Tim’s hands now, slender fingers with sharp, defined forearms that Jason could watch for hours. He thinks of Tim’s hands dancing lightning-fast across the neck of his violin, of the smooth flex and stretch of his bow-hand, of those fingers threading through the inky strands of Tim’s hair when he’s frustrated. Jason swallows hard.</p><p>“Oh my god.” Tim says, and Jason looks at him sharply, worried he’s been caught staring. Tim doesn’t respond immediately, his face frozen on some emotion Jason can’t put a name to, but one that makes his skin feel too tight. Tim opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything.</p><p>“Tim?” Jason tries to read Tim’s thoughts in the crevice between his brows and wide look in his eyes. What is he thinking?</p><p>“Jason.” Tim says hoarsely, and Jason feels his breath catch. He can’t be reading this right. No. No way. “Jason, I—” Tim starts, and then bites off, looking like he’s about to be run over. Jason fights the growing concern in his stomach to keep his face neutral. He’s wrong. He has to be.</p><p>“Jason, you…” Tim doesn’t finish again, his face still the same but his eyes speeding through a dozen different looks, too fast for Jason to catch and study before the next one has replaced it. Jason’s wrong. That can’t be what he thinks it is on Tim’s face. He left just so this wouldn’t happen. Now it seems like all that effort was tossed in the trash since Jason was too weak to just let Tim move on without saying goodbye.</p><p>“Jason.” Tim says, seemingly giving up on complete sentences, instead settling on Jason’s name in a voice thick with emotion. Oh. So Jason’s not wrong, then. Well, that was unexpected. <em>Really, kid? Me?</em> Jason tries to sort through the myriad of reactions running through him. He briefly feels like someone vacuumed up the sky into a little bottle and poured it out inside Jason, making him feel light and dizzy. But then, this is Gotham, and the skies are never that nice. Jason hears Janet’s voice telling accusing him of taking advantage of Tim, telling Jason that Tim only feels this way because he thinks that’s what Jason wants, and the horizons of happiness building within him vanish, and Jason is plummeting back to earth. Tim thinks he loves Jason. Jason loves Tim. This absolutely can’t work.</p><p>Jason knows what he has to do, but he doesn’t like it one damn bit.</p><p>“Let’s sit down.” Jason wants Tim to know how serious he is about this. He can’t let Tim continue down this path when all that’s waiting for him is misery, miserable Jason. This is going to be hard. Jason can feel his heart protesting inside him, but he swallows his emotions and forces himself to do what he knows is best for Tim.</p><p>“Tim, look.” How does Jason explain this? How can he get Tim to understand that a life with Jason is no life at all? Jason doesn’t look at Tim as he talks. He can’t bear to see that kind of open and honest affection he’s sure is filling Tim’s face. “You have to do this.” Tim jerks a little, but Jason doesn’t stop. He has to say this all now, and quickly, otherwise he’s going to break down and ruin everything.</p><p>“You have to audition, and you have to move on.”</p><p>“What? Jason—” Tim starts, but Jason shuts him down before he can go on any longer.</p><p>“No, listen. I’ve thought about this, Tim.” God knows he’s thought about it. Thought about Tim, and what it would be like to live every day of his life next to him. It sounds too good to be true because it is. Jason gets that, and now he needs Tim to get that, too. “I know it seems big and overwhelming now, but this opportunity is the best thing for you, Tim. You need to move on with your life, and I can’t be the thing that holds you back.” That would destroy Jason, to know that Tim threw away his chance to achieve everything he’s ever worked for just because of some asshole he met off the street a couple months ago. Jason refuses to let that be the case. He just wants Tim to be happy, and Jason can’t do that for him, not in the same way his music can.</p><p>Jason plows on, ignoring the growing hurt in Tim’s eyes. <em>Yeah, this sucks. Trust me, kid. I’m not happy about this either.</em> “I won’t let you throw away your potential because of me. Living with you has been great,” <em>really great</em>, “but it couldn’t have lasted forever. I wish it could’ve, but it can’t. The best thing you can do for yourself is to forget me and move on.” The frustration building in Tim’s expression turns his icy blue eyes into an absolutely stunning color, flashing with emotion. Jason feels Tim’s accusing glare like barbed wire being threaded through his heart.</p><p>“Jason, you don’t mean that.” Jason swallows hard, for different reasons. He does mean it. He has to.</p><p>“Tim, just think about it logically. You’re all about that, right?” Ha. Not funny, Jason. “If you go and do this—this thing you’ve been putting your damn heart and soul into for the past few weeks—you could have an amazing future. You’ll get to do things most people only dream of. It’s everything you’ve been working towards for a long time.” Tim is going to be so great, Jason can see it. He can envision it so well he feels like he could reach out and brush his fingers against the cheek of this Tim he sees—happy, successful, amazing and talented. This is the future Tim is meant for. He gets that now. Tim’s future has never been with Jason, and any time Jason spent deluding himself otherwise is just hurting him. “How long have you been playing the violin?” Jason asks. Tim has to understand. He has to. Jason doesn’t have the strength to fight him much longer on this.</p><p>“I don’t know. Since I was three or four?” Jason runs a hand through his already tousled hair.</p><p>“See? Practically your whole life. We’ve only known each other for less than half a year! This is just a phase, Tim.” Jason feels like he’s drowning in the depths of Tim’s eyes, in the agitation bubbling behind his cool blue irises. An angry pink tint is spreading from Tim’s cheeks to further down, approaching the collar of his shirt.</p><p>“This is not just a phase.” Tim says so convincingly that Jason almost believes him. “Jason, I—” Tim looks away, thumbing at the neck of his shirt. “I really care about you, Jason.” On the last few words, he looks up to meet Jason’s eyes, and Jason wants to scream. Why is the kid making this so hard? He can feel his resolve crumbling away. If Tim keeps on talking like that, Jason might just break down and kiss the hell out of him.</p><p>“Damn, Baby-bird.” Jason mutters. He digs his fingernails into his palm, trying to remind himself of all the reasons Tim couldn’t and shouldn’t be with Jason. They’re fading away faster than Jason would like. “Tim, I can’t lie to you. Living with you has been some of the best weeks of my life.” They really have. Here with Tim, all the hurts of the past seem like a distant memory, rather than the festering wounds they usually were. It’s easy for Jason to settle into a pattern here, content and happy.</p><p>“But this can’t last. You have too much ahead of you, and me…” Well, he’ll just say there’s no million-dollar record deal waiting for Jason any time in future. “I won’t let you take that away from yourself. There’s nothing here worth throwing your best chance away for.” Jason’s not worth it. He’s not worth an ounce of Tim’s attention. He’s certainly not worth Tim’s future. Jason knows that, so he just needs to make Tim understand that.</p><p>A sharp rap on the door signals Janet’s arrival, and part of Jason is glad. Tim can’t stay with him. It’s not a question, it’s not a debate. It’s a certainty. It’s time for both of them to accept that. Jason looks at the floor.</p><p>“Go, Tim.” Tim doesn’t move, still staring at Jason with that frozen, doe-eyed look, and Jason can’t stand it. Why can’t Tim just go and move on with his life? He’s just wasting his time here.</p><p>“Jason…” Tim says softly, a tender tone that sounds a little too close to pity for Jason’s liking.</p><p>“Go, Tim!” Jason says, louder. No more of this. Jason can’t take this will-they-or-won’t-they dance, can’t take any more pretending that this was ever going to work out. It’s over before it ever really began. Jason sees that, really sees that now. And he can’t take the pain of pretending otherwise any longer.</p><p>Jason still feels terrible when Tim flinches and stands. Tim doesn’t move to the door yet, and Jason realizes that if he’s going to do this, he can’t spare anyone’s feelings. Not his, and not Tim’s. Tim has to go. Now. “What are you, deaf? I told you, there’s no reason for you to stay here. Go.” Jason wills Tim to walk away, to leave before Jason’s heart can splinter any further. Tim doesn’t move.</p><p>“Go!” Jason all but shouts. Tim finally—finally—moves, turning away from Jason so he can’t see the younger man’s face. It’s for the best.</p><p>“Good bye, Jason.” Tim says, and Jason clenches his fists so hard he almost breaks the skin.</p><p>“Bye, Tim.” Jason whispers, hating Janet, hating the lone tear that slips through his lashes, and most of all hating himself. It’s for the best. It’s for the best. This is what Jason wants.</p><p>But as the door closes with a morbid finality, Jason knows that’s nothing but a big, fat lie.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, we're finally up to the present again. What do you think is going to happen next?? Will Tim and Jason ever be happy?? Who knows...<br/>Also forgive my bat puns with Bruce &amp; Jason playing baseball.... they're BATmen... anyway<br/>See you next chapter!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Performance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The audition date is finally here. Tim and Jason's paths are diverting, but can they really stay apart?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ride to auditions is terse and quiet. Tim isn’t in a talking mood, and his mother doesn’t press. They drive mostly in focused quiet out of Gotham. Tim watches the leering towers of Gotham—eternally hidden from the sun by scraggly looking clouds—thin out to suburbs, then to country roads. They are out of Gotham.</p><p>Tim watches as the oozing grease strain that is Gotham gives way into brighter, friendlier territory. Trees become greener and healthier, and the sun manages to climb its way out from the heavy clouds imprisoning it, casting afternoon sunlight down along the scenery escorting them to Metropolis. It does little to improve Tim’s dour mood.</p><p>As they near Metropolis, and shiny, clean skyscrapers become visible and soon filled their lines of sight. Tim clutched his violin case close. This was it. He was approaching the moment he had been training for. It was do or die time. Tim pushes all affairs Jason or friend related aside for the time being. Right now, there can be only Tim and his music, no complicated love-life or friend circles. Just the music.</p><p>His mother has him direct them to Metropolis University where the screening would take place. Tim felt his nerves fluttering about within his stomach in the most cliché of ways. He drums his fingers along the car door. Keep calm, he reminds himself. He focuses on his breathing long enough to calm himself down. He can do this.</p><p>“Well, Timothy? Do you have everything you need?” His mother checks, flittering around him straightening his attire.</p><p>“Yes.” Tim doesn’t bother with lengthy replies. He’s ready. He’s got this under control. He is the best. He knows that. He just needs to prove it to the judges. Easy as one, two, three.</p><p>They enter the main building where registration and check-in is occurring. Tim’s mother sends him to go scout out the concert hall while she checks him in. Tim meanders through the throngs of people. There are so many. Boys and girls all looking to be about his age wait around. Some look nervous, others look confident, most carry some sort of instrument case with them. Tim notes the few other violinists he passes. He sees three different people carrying guitars.</p><p>He follows the general flow of people towards a large set of double doors, propped open so people can stream in and out. Tim slips in with the masses, and takes a moment to be awed by the space. He can see why Met. U. was selected to house the event.             </p><p>The auditorium is huge, looking like it could house several thousand people. He notes the paneling on the walls, probably designed to catch sound waves emanating from the stage and bounce them around the room. The stage itself seems so tiny in comparison with its countless spectators, and Tim has to swallow a shiver at the prospect of playing up there by himself. Sure, he’s performed before, but never in front of a crowd this size.</p><p>That’s fine. He’ll use that to his advantage. He’ll keep his cool and poise and let the enormity of it scare off a few people. Tim can handle this.</p><p>Now that he has located the auditorium, Tim heads back to find his mother. It takes him a minute, but he locates her eventually.</p><p>“There you are.” She says, handing him a lanyard. Tim accepts it and looks it over. It has a card attached to it with his name and face printed on it. Fancy. He dons it, listening as his mother keeps talking.</p><p>“Here’s how things will work, Timothy, listen close. You’ll have about an hour to warm up and review your pieces before they call you to perform on the big stage. You’re slotted in for seven fifteen, so not too long from now but enough time for you to get your head on straight.” His mother hands a folded slip of paper. “Here’s the schedule, should you need to refer to it. After you play on stage, then you’ll be expected to find room 107, where a panel of judges will interact with you individually. Then they’ll interview you. Just be your usually charming self, and everything will go according to plan, understood, Timothy?”</p><p>“Yes, Mom.” Tim says a little tiredly.</p><p>He just wants to do this and be done with it.</p><p>“Very good, Timothy.” His mother says, dusting a fleck of invisible lint off of his shoulder. “Now go on and warm up. I’ll be in the audience.” She pauses, her usual stern expression slipping away. Her hand reaches up to grasp his shoulder, and she tilts her head, just looking at Tim. “I’m so proud of you. I have every confidence in you today.” The compassion and obvious pride behind her eyes makes Tim warm a little, soothing his fluttering nerves a little.</p><p>Tim takes a deep breath and smiles ever so slightly. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you afterwards.” She nods and releases him, taking a step back.</p><p>“Good luck, Timothy.” Tim nods once in acknowledgement and turns to go find his room. He weaves through the crowd of musicians and others, following papers posted all around with arrows directing him toward where he needs to go. They direct him to a list of competitors and the rooms they have been designated to practice in. Tim finds his name and commits the room number to memory.</p><p>When he locates it, he double checks that his name is on the list of people and time slots. And slips in. He unpacks his violin, rubs some feeling into his hands, and tunes. While his pieces are hard, he’s nailed everything down to muscle memory, which leaves him an unfortunate amount of brain power to dedicate to daydreaming. He fights any thought of Jason that surface up, though. He doesn’t need that right now.</p><p>By the time he’s run through all of his pieces twice, the time is nearly spent, so Tim runs a few last measures that are a little more difficult and then closes his case with tense hands. It’s time to go take the stage. He leaves his things in the room to be collected afterwards, squares his shoulders, and sets off toward the main auditorium. Assistants wearing nice shirts with little nametags pinned on their breasts direct him to the hall that accesses backstage.</p><p>Tim is left alone with eight minutes before his slot. He closes his eyes, running through some quick mediation techniques. He gathers all his worries about Jason, his mother, college, and his future, and sets them aside. None of those matter right now. This is about putting his best foot forward and proving that he is the best. He can do this.</p><p>“Our next contestant, Mr. Timothy Drake on the violin.” The voice of an announcer echoes from the stage right into Tim’s skull, shaking him out of his trance. It’s time. He swallows once and walks out from backstage onto the main stage.</p><p>The lights are blinding and hot, making him feel sticky and gross. Tim does his best to pay no heed to his nerves as he walks to the microphone in the middle of the stage. He puts on his most confident mask and smiles at the invisible audience, the one lost in shadow to him.</p><p>“Good afternoon. My name is Timothy Drake. I’m here to play the violin.” Tim reiterates. He feels a little lightheaded with the enormity of what’s happening right now. He prattles off his set mindlessly, and then a hush falls over the audience as he puts his instrument to his shoulder.</p><p>He can do this. He was born to this stage. He is the best. He is going to win.</p><p>The music echoes in large space just like he thought it would. His fingers move automatically, vibrato making the notes sing like liquid gold in his hands. He closes his eyes, whole body moving with the rhythms he plays. His world shrinks from Gotham to the auditorium to him and the audience to him and the judges and finally just him and the music. There was no more thoughts other than of his hands and the instrument he expertly manipulated in them. He soared with the crescendo and fell into the pianissimos, and just like that, it was over.</p><p>He dropped his violin to rest position, numb, barely hearing the overwhelming applause of the audience. He bowed once, and walked off stage. That was that. He did it. When he’s finally out of view of the audience he never really saw, he allows his shoulders to slump a bit. Okay. On to the next thing. He pulls out the schedule from where he had tucked it into his pocket, and searches for a clock. He has about ten minutes before he’s due with the panel.</p><p>Tim grabs a quick drink at a water fountain and wanders until he comes across room 107. He steps in, the heads of the panelists looking up from their papers to study him. He smiles graciously at them, closing the door behind him. It’s all too easy and familiar to slip into the persona of charming, Drake-heir Timothy. It’s what he’s good at. Personas and masks.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>“Timothy!” Tim smiles as he picks his mother out of the masses. She weaves towards him, pulling him into a careful hug. “You were absolutely magnificent. The other children don’t stand a chance.”</p><p>“Thanks, Mom.” Tim says. He glances out the large, glass windowpanes at the darkened sky.</p><p>“Come now. Let’s go have dinner and then we’ll settle into our hotel.” Tim falls into step just slightly behind her out of habit as they exit the thinning crowd. The Metropolis night air is still pleasant, but Tim wishes he hadn’t left his coat in the car with the rest of his things. They walk away from the grassy lawns of the university and into the glimmering world of Metropolis. The tallest skyscrapers are visible over the lower buildings, a glassy dark blue that blends with the sky.</p><p>His mother leads them past glowing storefronts to a nice looking building with dark green awnings. An attendant at the door takes their name, and shortly they are seated inside the glittering restaurant. Bright, crystal chandeliers light the polished room, and they were escorted to a fancily carved table for two.</p><p>After their glasses were poured—water for Tim, wine for his mother—she raised her glass.</p><p>“To your ever-growing success, Timothy.” Tim tapped his glass against his mother, sipping lightly. “I’m very proud of you.”</p><p>Tim gave another thin smile.</p><p>“You made the right choice, you know. Letting go of the things that were holding you back.” She continued, pausing to take a small sip. “That boy was no good for you.”</p><p>Tim’s smile vanished, and he looked darkly off to the side. Jason. Those thoughts he had been trying to suppress came flooding back to him all at once. Living with Jason, playing music with Jason, Jason yelling at him to go. Tim taps his fingernails on his glass and doesn’t meet his mother’s gaze.</p><p>“It’s true.” His mother insists. “You could just tell, looking at him, that he was trouble. Why, I—”</p><p>“Will you just stop, Mom?” Tim snaps. “He left, I left. It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”</p><p>“Timothy, that’s no way to speak to your mother.”</p><p>“Sorry.” Tim clenches his jaw, glaring out the window at the offensively inoffensive skyline. “Just, let’s drop it, okay?”</p><p>“Hmm.” His mother said thoughtfully. A waiter approaches the table, so she blessedly drops the issue. It doesn’t slip from Tim’s mind, though, not during dinner, not during their ride to the hotel, and not through the as they settle in for the night. Tim lies awake as the clock blinks red numbers later and later into the night.</p><p>Jason. Really, Jason? It seems so obvious now that it’s hit him like a bullet to the chest. Tim lies in bed, eyes wide open as he studies the ceiling. He thinks back to when he and Jason would curl up—too close—on the sofa and watch films. He remembers Jason calling him nerd-boy and remembers teasing each other relentlessly. He remembers the night after he went out with his friends, when the weight of his tryouts hit him and he collapsed in tears. Jason was there, so kind and caring, just being there for Tim when he felt like he was going to fall apart. He can’t have imagined the energy between them. He couldn’t be alone in this feeling of closeness. Jason had to have felt it, at least a little?</p><p>But if that’s true, Tim just can’t wrap his head around why Jason would push him away. Sure, Jason went on about how he was no good for Tim, how he was only holding Tim back, but Tim had such a hard time believing those words when he saw the amount of hurt on Jason’s face. It just doesn’t add up. Somewhere, something went wrong, and Tim is determined to understand why.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>When Tim walks back into his apartment, the first thing he notices is that it is devoid of any of Jason’s things. All of his boxes, his guitar, everything is gone. Tim pushes into Jason’s room with a sinking feeling, and finds it is as empty as he left it, the sheets and covers neatly made, exactly as it was before Jason arrived. It was as if he had never even been here. It stirs a sadness in him, so he walks out and is sure to shut the door behind him.</p><p>He winds up sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV that’s still off. Without Jason here, not just absent but gone, everything feels too still and too quiet. Where is the man who sits and laughs at Saturday cartoons? Where is the man who cooks Tim meals when he forgets, and tells him off when he neglects sleep? Tim runs his fingers over the side of the sofa that became Jason’s spot.</p><p>Then he draws his hand back in and curls it up in his lap. This has to stop. He’s already auditioned. If he makes it, how can he say no? This is it. The time for turning back is past. Now, it’s just a matter of waiting.</p><p>Of course, Tim might not win. He’s not so cocky as to assume he’s got it in the bag. But he does know he’s good. He knows it went well. Really well. He can’t bank on not winning, either.</p><p>It’s Friday, and Tim has nowhere to go. He feels disconnected from the rest of the world, like he’s living in his own little dimension here, alone. He supposes he could call Stephanie or Conner and ask if they’re available, but knowing them, they probably already have plans. Besides, he doesn’t want to inconvenience them by barging in at the last minute.</p><p>He could text Jason.</p><p>No, he’s not going to do that. Jason made it pretty clear by his departure that he’s done with his brief stint here. Tim is struck with a horrible thought that he loathes himself for even having. Did Jason ever even want to stay here? He only moved in because he was out of a place to go. Now that Tim was likely leaving soon, he could no longer provide the thing that gave him value, and poof, Jason was gone. But, no, Tim feels terrible for even considering it. Jason would never just use him like that. Would he?</p><p>Tim stood up sharply. No, he can’t carry on this line of thought. No more. He hurries into his kitchen, grabbing the milk and pouring himself a glass. What is he going to do with himself now? He tries to think of a time before Jason when he had to have done something on his own. He mostly practiced. He read, did schoolwork. He worked his online job. Now that he thinks about it, it’s a little sad. He really didn’t have much of a life before Jason saved him from behind that bar. How boring is that? Tim can’t be surprised that Jason was ready to leave him behind. He’s just not an interesting person.</p><p>By the time he’s downed his glass, he’s itching for something, anything to do, so he’s almost grateful when his mother calls.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Timothy, excellent.” His mother’s voice comes clear over the line. “Are you aware that Mr. Wayne is holding his annual Halloween party tomorrow night?”</p><p>“Mr. Wayne? Mr. Bruce Wayne? Uh, no.” Tim makes a puzzled expression.</p><p>“Well, their music cancelled at the last minute, and one of his sons called to inquire if you were available to play. He is willing to pay a good sum for the evening.”</p><p>“One of Bruce Wayne’s sons called to ask about me?” Tim said incredulously.</p><p>“Yes, and he needs an answer. You’ll need to prepare a couple hours’ worth of music, but nothing too complicated. You ought to be able to sight read some nice party tunes. What do you say?”</p><p>Tim opened and closed his mouth. How would Bruce Wayne’s son know about him? He tried to remember their names. He snaps after a second. Dick Grayson! That’s the one. Tim remembers him pretty well. He met him the night… well, the night Dick’s parents died. Tim knows there was more sons, but he can’t think of their names. The others were never in the papers as much as former-acrobat-current-police-officer Grayson.</p><p>“Yeah.” He says. “Tell him I’ll do it.”</p><p>“Excellent.” Tim can hear the smile on her face. “Get started on the music. I’ll send you the details later.”</p><p>“Okay. Bye.”</p><p>“Good bye.” She hang up, and Tim exhales. Well, he wanted something to do. He goes into the living room and grabs his violin case. Time to get to work.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Tim tugs uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt. It’s less comfortable than his outfit for auditions, this one the full monkey suit complete with crisp bowtie and silken cummerbund. The cold air, at least, helps with the heat of the layers. Tim had to go full out for tonight. One other detail was necessary. A red domino mask rests on his brow and cheekbones, held on by spirit gum. The party tonight, in honor of Halloween, is a masquerade.</p><p>Tim resists the urge to scratch at the unfamiliar accessory. He has to laugh at it, really. With its winged tips pointing up and down on the edges, and the borders barely over an inch thick, he doesn’t think it does much to really conceal his identity.</p><p>As Tim approaches the door with his violin in hand, it is opened before he can knock.</p><p>“Ah, you must be Master Drake.” A slender, elderly man with a crisp British accent to match his crisp suit greets him.</p><p>“I guess the violin kind of gives it away, huh?” Tim says.</p><p>“Indeed.” The man smiles gently. “Allow me to show you to where you’ll be playing.” Tim nods and steps over the threshold. He has to marvel at the grandeur of the manor. It’s actually pretty close to the Drake estate, but Tim’s under no illusion over whose house is superior.</p><p>The halls are fairly quiet, the occasional server dressed in clean black and white hurrying by. Tim wonders if Mr. Wayne always has this many staff members on hand. They come out into a ballroom-esque room with elegant decorations about, as well as a plethora of tables and chairs for guests to lounge at. The light is a dark blue hue, mysterious and very Halloween, as are the spindly lanterns on each table that cast each one in a golden halo of light. Tim admires the place as the man leads him to a stage, which Tim climbs up onto. There are no guests yet, and Tim knows they won’t arrive for another half hour.</p><p>“Make yourself at home, Master Drake. Should you need anything, simply ask for me. My name is Alfred Pennyworth.” The man smiles kindly.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. Oh, and it’s just Tim.”</p><p>“Very well, Master Tim.” He turns and strides off, and Tim smiles. Nice man. He then gets to work, unpacking his instrument and tuning the strings without thought. He sets up his stand and music—he found a nice collection of tunes that were easy enough for him to pick up overnight—and then sits in the chair put out for him.</p><p>Nothing to do now but wait for the party to get going. Tim hasn’t seen Mr. Wayne, whom he recognizes from his TV appearances and their occasionally brushes through his parents’ business. Neither has he seen Dick Grayson, or anyone else who might be a son of Bruce Wayne. He’s still terribly curious as to who asked for him by name. He supposes his reputation might have grown that much, but he’s doubtful. He’s still just a student.</p><p>Tim sets his violin down, hops off the stage, finds a refreshment table and comes back with a glass of water. It won’t be long now. Sure enough, Mr. Pennyworth comes back shortly and asks him to start playing, as the first wave of guests will be coming in shortly. Tim sets up and jumps into his first piece. Easy as pie. He takes a breath, relaxes. This could even be fun.</p><p>As the women in tight fitting dresses and men in sharp tuxes and everyone in extravagant masks, Tim thinks it will be easy to set Jason aside for the moment and enjoy the party.          </p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Jason grimaces as Dick fixes his bowtie.</p><p>“Come on, Jay, you’ve got to look your best.” His older brother says, patting his shoulder.</p><p>“Why are you so obsessed with this?” Jason asks, rhetorically, but when Dick gives a suspiciously vague shrug, his brow furrows. “What? What are you up to?” He knocks Dick’s hands away from the bowtie, fed up with his help. </p><p>“I’m not up to anything, Jay.” Dick says, handing Jason his red domino mask. Dick dons his own black one, and Jason puts his on.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. I’m watching you. After the stunt you pulled with me and Bruce, I don’t trust you.”</p><p>“Whatever.” Dick grins, holding up his hands. Jason glares at him and fiddles with his tie, purposely messing it up. Dick rolls his eyes. “Get going, Jay. I’m going to go find Bruce.”</p><p>Dick shoves him towards the door. Jason turns and gives him the finger, but goes anyway. He immediately feels overwhelmed with the amount of high-society people here. The room practically reeks of wealth, and Jason feels like he’s got a spotlight highlighting his gaucheness. The dresses, the room, the music, it all feels too ostentatious for Jason to consider enjoying himself. He can’t believe he got dragged into this in the first place.</p><p>Just because he was staying here and the party happened to be tonight doesn’t mean he should have had to attend. Jason was perfectly content with locking himself in his room and ignoring everyone. However, everyone else (sans Damian) insisted that Jason attend. He hadn’t been thrilled, but then Alfred gave him one of those looks that made Jason cave in.</p><p>He’d had to put concealer on his jaw from where Bruce punched him. It made him feel a little better that Bruce did, too. Jason straightens his sleeves, and decides to go track down the refreshment table. As he grabbed a little pastry of some sort and stuffed it in his mouth, he had to be grateful for one thing: there was no paparazzi allowed. That meant he could relax a little about his behavior. If only a little. Jason taps his fingers absentmindedly to the music. It’s a violin, as far as he can hear, and it makes him think of Tim. He wonders how the audition went. He wonders when Tim will find out if he made it in, and—after he obviously does—when Tim will leave. It has to be at least a week or two, Jason thinks. He wonders what Tim is doing right now. Hopefully he’s at least enjoying himself more than Jason is at the moment.</p><p>He manages to glide through the crowds to a quiet corner where he can stand and sip at the drink he picked up and watch the crowd. He spies Bruce laughing in the middle of a crowd of women, a stylized domino mask on his face, and Jason sneers. He can see how fake Bruce’s smile is from a mile away.</p><p>“Come on, now, Little Wing. You’ll never get anyone to dance with you that way.” Dick emerges from the crowd and leans against the wall by his side.</p><p>“Whatsa matter, no one else to bother right now?” Jason says irately. Couldn’t Dick just let him brood in peace?</p><p>“No one as exciting as my little brother.” Dick smiles, eyes crinkling underneath his black mask. “Are you really going to stand here the whole night?”</p><p>“What else would I do at this stupid event? I don’t know anybody, and even if I did, I wouldn’t want to talk to anyone here.” Jason finishes with a pointed look at Dick, who either misses it or decides to ignore it entirely.</p><p>“Oh, Jason. Don’t be so negative. Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of my friends. They’re actually semi-decent people!”</p><p>“Yeah, no thanks.” Jason snorts. Dick looks at him, frustration making his features tighten. Jason doesn’t get why he cares if Jason’s walking around and chatting about petty things. It’s not Dick’s problem.</p><p>“Seriously, Jason. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life moping about?” Dick says, the playfulness leaving his tone.</p><p>“What? I am not moping.” Jason says, affronted.</p><p>“So you’ll come, then?”</p><p>Jason groans. “Fine. What the hell ever. Let’s go.”</p><p>“Excellent!” The wide smile that easily identifies the man as Dick Grayson even with the mask returns, and Jason scowls just to annoy him. Dick leads the way through the room, weaving past costumed people and along the edges of the room. The music got louder as they approached the stage, it being now in view. “Oh, good, I think I see Vic.” Dick says, picking up his pace.</p><p>Jason spares a glance toward the lone musician on the stage, taking in his neat suit, black hair, red domino, blue eyes—</p><p>Jason stops dead in his tracks.</p><p>No. No fuckin’ way. He can’t move, oblivious to Dick’s turn towards him and the sharp gaze. Jason doesn’t pay attention to the small, knowing smile the brushes Dick’s lips, or to anybody else around them. Jason is frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Timothy Drake casually playing music in his home (well, not Jason’s home per se, but the closest thing to, at the moment…).</p><p>“What the hell is he doing here?” Jason says, more to himself than Dick, but Dick answers anyway.</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“The—the kid playing the violin!”</p><p>“Mr. Drake?” Dick says, his bright and wide, a perfect puzzled look on his face.</p><p>“Yes!” Jason hisses. He’s panicking a little bit. It’s silly, he knows, but it caught him seriously off guard to see Tim in his childhood home.</p><p>“He’s the musician for tonight. Our other musicians suddenly had to give up the spot. We hired him last minute to play.” Jason gives Dick a look halfway between anger and panic. He is not prepared for this!</p><p>“Why do you care, Jason?” Dick asks carefully.</p><p>“That’s—I—” Jason flushes. “I don’t.”</p><p>Dick’s smile is a little too amused to be innocent, but Jason is embarrassed and eager to just get away. “Okay, Jay. Whatever you say.” He turns, face lighting up. “Oh, look! It’s Babs! I better go say hi. Catch up later?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Jason says absently. “You do that.” Dick vanishes, and Jason is left alone to watch Tim.</p><p>He moves so he isn’t in the middle of the crowd, and leans against another wall to watch the younger man. He sways slightly as he plays, motions in tune with the music. Jason watches him, pictures him in the apartment where Jason last saw him. Where Jason yelled for him to go. Jason frowns, motion in his cheeks stretching his mask slightly. At least he has the shield of “anonymity.” But if his quickness to recognize Tim is any indication, it’s a flimsy defense.</p><p>Jason stands quietly for several songs, but then Tim sets his violin down and takes a sip of water. He doesn’t pick it up immediately, instead moving to the edge of the stage and hopping down, and Jason realizes he must be taking a break. Jason’s heart rate picks up slightly. He’s not sure what to do. The feelings in his chest tell him to hurry through the throngs of people and find Tim and talk to him and apologize for his harsh words and ask how the auditions went. The ice-cold logic in his head tells him he should just steer clear, and avoid being seen entirely. He doesn’t move. He quickly loses sight of Tim in the crowd, Tim’s short head of hair lost among the forest of tall, thin women in stiletto heels and tall men with broad shoulders. Jason’s fingers drum restlessly on his wrist. What is he going to do? Jason finds himself pushing away from the wall and heading into the mass of party-goers. He wanders, not actively tracking down Tim but scanning for his red domino and icy eyes.</p><p>“Ah, Jason!” Jason turns to the boisterous voice, a <em>what-now</em> expression twisting his face. Bruce throws an arm around him, smiling broadly. Jason can identify the spot that he punched by the slight discoloration of the makeup. He wonders if dragging Jason into the middle of the group is Bruce’s form of revenge. He wouldn’t put it past the old man. “This here is Jason.” Bruce gestured at Jason with his glass, the motion a little rough, as if Bruce had drank a little too much that evening. It’s an act Jason doesn’t buy one bit. He knows Bruce too well, however he many like to deny it, and he knows the man is only putting on the party persona that people expect to see.</p><p>Jason smiles uncomfortably at the group, none of the faces familiar under their bright and colorful masks. “Jason is family.” Bruce says, squeezing his shoulder.</p><p>“Oh, really?” A woman in a garnet red dress coos. “That’s so sweet.”</p><p>“Yes, Jason is very near and dear to my heart.” Bruce’s smile is cloyingly sweet, and Jason does his best not to grimace as he tries to squirm out of his grip. Then he turns to beam at Jason.</p><p>“Please, why don’t you join us for a while?” Bruce says.</p><p>“Alright.” Jason says through his teeth, trying to convey as much <em>I-hate-you</em> into the words as possible. Bruce doesn’t skip a beat, launching into the conversation once more. Jason grits his teeth. This night could not possibly be worse. Why, oh why, did he ever let himself be talked into this?</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>After the first hour and a half or so, Tim sets his violin down and decides to take one of the breaks he was promised in his last-minute contract. He straightens his jacket and carefully merges with the crowd. The scene is a familiar one. He’s had plenty of experience with fancy parties. Not being invited to them, of course, but Tim can remember countless hours of watching the glittering wealth and laughing people from the stairs of his house. He remembers always wanting to be there with his parents, meeting all those people. Now, he can slip in with all the other faces, and no one would scold him for being out of bed, or tug him away to be handed off to a nanny.</p><p>Tim even lets a smile cross his face. He doesn’t talk to anyone, despite recognizing a few company faces that he knows met with his parents relatively often. Tim is content watching the people around him, soaking in the atmosphere and the warmth of the crowd and the gentle buzz of conversation dotted with the occasional louder laugh.</p><p>Tim hears such a laugh, loud and strong, and he turns his head to look. He recognizes Mr. Wayne instantly, and drifts closer out of curiosity. He stands in a small ring of people. To his right, a slightly shorter man with longer black hair stands, just turned so Tim could barely see his face. It’s Dick Grayson, as large as life. To Grayson’s right, there’s a couple dressed in contrasting black and white outfits, then a woman in a tight red gown, a man with an emerald green mask, another man who Tim can’t see all that well, and then Mr. Wayne. The man in question says something, and laughter sounds, making shoulders shake and grins glint on several faces. Tim creeps closer, intrigued. He watches the group, content hovering on the outskirts, but Mr. Wayne turns his head and spies him.</p><p>“Ah, Mr. Drake!” The host calls over, and Timothy jumps a little, half expecting to be reprimanded for wandering about the party. Timothy doesn’t move at first, but when Mr. Wayne beckons, he approaches with slight apprehension. The ring of people opens to swallow him in. Tim steps in to the space with a small smile. “How are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Drake?”</p><p>“Just Tim is fine, Mr. Wayne.” Tim says. “The party is very nice.” Tim feels his professional persona sliding into place without consciously choosing to put it there. The group chuckles, and Tim scans them for familiar faces. No, no, no, and… Wait. That man, he looks familiar. Tim narrows his eyes, trying to place who the figure in a sharp tux and red domino with the baby blue eyes is. He’s not from Drake Industries, not from his music life… The man coughs and shifts slightly, and the realization hits Tim in a gasp.</p><p>“Jason?” It’s Jason, oh, god, it’s Jason.</p><p>“You two know each other?”</p><p>“Uh.” Jason says. The mask he wears shrouds his brows, and his face is stoic, so Tim struggles to decipher the look in his eyes. What the hell is Jason doing here? And at Bruce Wayne’s side, no less. Tim certainly wasn’t invited as a guest, so why would Jason be?</p><p>“Uh, yeah. We—that is—Jason—” Tim is too busy trying to figure out how he managed to run into Jason here of all places to put together words.</p><p>“Tim is a friend of mine.” Jason says, and Tim tries to catch his eye. Friend? What does this mean in light of their last encounter? Is Jason just saying that? Are they really still friends? Still <em>just</em> friends?</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim says, too quickly. “Jason lived with me for a little while.” Bruce raised an eyebrow, and Tim wants to wince. Smooth, real smooth.</p><p>“Did he?”</p><p>Jason flushes a little. “Yeah, after Kori and Roy and I sold the apartment.”</p><p>“Wait. Why are you here, Jason?” Tim asks, then goes a little red when he realizes how uncouth his question must have been. Fortunately, no one calls him out on his faux pas.</p><p>Bruce answers when Jason doesn’t. “Jason is my son.” He says, like Tim should know that. What. Jason is… is Bruce Wayne’s son? Tim is struck silent. How did he not know this? How did Jason not tell him this? Why did Jason not tell him this? Tim snaps his gaping mouth shut to stare at Jason.</p><p>Jason doesn’t meet his eyes.</p><p>“Wait, then you’re then one who hired me to play?” Tim said, bemused. Why would Jason do that?</p><p>“What? No, I didn’t.” Jason says, looking as confused as Tim feels.</p><p>“But I thought…” Tim stops. Obviously, Jason wasn’t the Bruce Wayne son who asked for him, which is a puzzle of its own.</p><p>“My son Dick asked for you.” Mr. Wayne says. Dick, like Dick Grayson? Tim is getting more and more bemused as the conversation escalates.</p><p>“Dick did?” Jason says. The conversation has gone quickly from bad to worse, and Tim thinks he should duck out now.</p><p>“Okay, well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Wayne. I should go continue playing.” Tim smiled and began to step away.</p><p>“Hold on now a moment, Timothy. If you’re a friend of Jason’s, you should stop by for dinner tomorrow.” Mr. Wayne said. Tim tried not to let his smile fall off his face, but it felt strained.</p><p>“Oh, no, I couldn’t, Mr. Wayne. I don’t want to inconvenience you—” Tim was shaking his head, and Jason was too.</p><p>“Nonsense! It’s so seldom that I ever get to meet any of Jason’s friends. Dinner, tomorrow. I insist.”</p><p>“I, ah, have plans tomorrow, I’m afraid.” No, he doesn’t but he is so not ready to have dinner with Jason and Bruce Wayne who apparently is Jason’s father.</p><p>“Monday, then.” Bruce says, sounding like he’s not really asking. And, well, how does Tim say no to Bruce Wayne? So he meekly agrees, thinking Jason looks as thrilled as he feels about it.</p><p>“Great.” Jason says, looking distinctly displeased. Tim has the nerve to feel slightly miffed about that. It’s not like his coming over could be all that terrible, could it?</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>This is <em>terrible</em>. Jason is panicking. Why, oh why on God’s earth would Bruce invite Tim over for dinner? Jason wants to bang his head on the marble countertops until he passes out. Seriously, Bruce could not have engineered a worse situation for them. This is ten kinds of awkward.</p><p>Jason paces angrily in his room. How could Bruce do this to him? To Tim? Jason was perfectly content with Tim leaving him behind—well, not perfectly fine, but that’s beside the point—but now he and Tim have to figure out whatever is between them and do it in front of Jason’s adoptive brothers and billionaire adoptive father. Not to mention, Jason pretty much laid all his cards out in front of Dick, under the guise that Dick and Tim’s paths would never cross. Well, clearly that didn’t work out, since apparently Dick hired Tim to play at the party, which led to Tim being invited over for dinner.</p><p>The familiar itch for nicotine rises in Jason just like it usually does when he’s emotionally strained (which is always when he’s at the manor). He wishes Alfred hadn’t found and confiscated his cigarettes earlier in the week, because he could really use one right now. Jason needs to vent, but like hell he’s going to Dick after that asshole turned around and got him in this situation in the first place.</p><p>Then, an idea sparks. Dick’s not the only asshole he knows he can talk to. To be honest, he probably should have called weeks ago, but with everything that was going on, Jason found himself wavering whenever he thought about picking up the phone and dialing the number that’s the first speed dial number programmed in.</p><p>Jason does it now, feeling a little guilty it took him this long.</p><p>“Jason?” The voice picks up quickly.</p><p>“Hey, Roy.”</p><p>“Jaybird, what’s up?” Roy asks, and Jason is pleased to hear that he sounds pretty normal.</p><p>“Yeah, hey, uh. How are you?” Jason asks, because he would be a pretty awful friend if he launched right into talking all about his problems when Roy’s got his own load of issues to deal with.</p><p>“Rehab kind of fuckin’ sucks, Jaybird.” Roy says, but his voice is amused.</p><p>“I bet. How do you feel?”</p><p>“I’m getting better, man.” Roy says, taking a serious tone for a moment. “It’s a slow process and therapy is stupid, but we’re getting there.”</p><p>“That’s good, man, real good.” Jason says. He’s glad to hear that the program is doing what it’s supposed to for Roy. He needed it.</p><p>“Yeah, it is. So, why did you call? Kori’s called almost every day, but neither of us have heard a thing from you. What’s going on, Jay?” Jason feels a flash of shame for letting contact with his friends go for so long and resolves to call Kori when this all is done to check up on her.</p><p>Jason realizes he has to explain the whole thing to Roy now, and gives a deep sigh.</p><p>“Remember that kid I was giving guitar lessons to?” Jason starts.</p><p>“The one you wouldn’t shut up about?”</p><p>Jason gives an offended scoff. “I did not.”</p><p>“Totally wouldn’t shut up about him.” Roy says in a singsong voice.</p><p>“What-ever. But, him?”</p><p>“Yes, I remember him.”</p><p>“Well…” Jason launches into the lengthy tale of Tim Drake and Jason Todd, relived he can finally rant to someone about this without inhibitions. As Roy give the appropriate hums and gasps as Jason talks, Jason thinks he’s an idiot for not calling Roy sooner. Jason explains moving in with him, and how he thought Tim was cute for a long time, but then it got so much worse. He explains Tim’s complicated situation with his parents, and how the Drakes and the Waynes were business associates. He explains movie nights with Tim, Tim losing his mind preparing for his auditions, and the disaster that followed Janet Drake’s arrival. He explains his last two encounters with Tim, and his confusion over where he and the younger man stand.</p><p>Jason knows he saw something in Tim’s eyes when he last left his apartment, but what did it mean? Did Tim feel the same? If he did, what should Jason do?</p><p>Jason’s voice gets thicker as he explains to Roy all the reasons why he and Tim can’t be together. He rubs his hand over his face, posture slumped as he sits on his bed.</p><p>“I’m just no good for him, you know, Roy? He’s should be so out of my league.” Jason is a little surprised when Roy laughs.</p><p>“You’re kidding, right Jason? You’re way overthinking this.”</p><p>“Whaddya mean?”</p><p>“I mean it doesn’t matter who the kid’s parents are or what either of you do. If you love each other that’s it. Nothing else should matter. Look at Kori and I. Kori is, like, literally descended from royalty. She’s an actual princess, and I’m just some guy off the streets of Star City. But it doesn’t matter, because I love her and she loves me. The same should be true with you and Tim. If you really love each other, none of that other stuff matters.”</p><p>Jason doesn’t have a response for that. He wants to believe what Roy said, he really does. He wants to believe that if Tim wanted him, that would be enough. But Jason isn’t enough. He isn’t enough for Tim, when Tim deserves the sun and the moon and stars, and Jason just can’t reach them. So he pushes past the point, trying to shake the dark pit of self-loathing bubbling in is stomach.</p><p>“Well, that’s all fine and dandy, but none of that helps me figure out what I’m going to do about dinner.” Jason snaps. Roy sighs on the other end of the line.</p><p>“Well, Jaybird, that’s up to you.” <em>Thanks, Roy, Real helpful</em>. “The kid pretty much told you he likes you, and you obviously want him. Whether you choose to tell him that, that’s your decision. But if being here has taught me anything, it’s that you never know what’s going to happen, and someday you may find yourself wishing you hadn’t thrown away your chance when you had one.” Wow, Jason was not ready for the wealth of issues behind that statement—save it for therapy, Roy—but the point rings in the air. Is Jason really doing the right thing here by letting Tim slip between his fingers, by pretending that he doesn’t want Tim?</p><p>His heart screams no, but his head fights it on every pulse of his blood. Jason swallows hard. “Thanks, Roy.”</p><p>“Yeah, no problem.” An awkward silence falls between them, blanketing the line with nothing but the sounds of their breaths. After a moment, Roy speaks again. “Look, I gotta go, but you call me again, okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, you got it.” Jason says, hand twisting in the comforter of his bed. “Take care, Roy.”</p><p>“Bye, Jason.” Roy hangs up, and Jason flops backwards, so that his legs are dangling off the bed as he sprawls. What is he going to do? First off, he has to survive dinner with Tim, but then he’s now thinking of confessing his feelings to Tim? What’s he going to do, take him on a moonlit stroll around the Wayne gardens and kiss him under the watchful gaze of the trees? Right, as if.</p><p>This is a whole new problem that Jason needs to deal with. What a mess. Just, what a mess.</p><p>He frets the whole night long about it, avoiding the rest of the family by spending his time divided between an assortments of odd locations. First he reads in one of Bruce’s cars in the corner of the garage, then he eats in a guest room that no one’s used in months, and later reads some more up on the roof. Jason’s fairly certain Alfred could track him down if he wanted to, but the Wayne family butler seems to have blessedly cut Jason some slack. In fact, Jason thinks he’s even helping him, because when he snuck into the kitchen to find dinner, there’s a Tupperware container full of leftovers with his name on a sticky note pasted to the lid. Jason makes a mental note to thank the man when he’s no longer hiding from the rest of the family.</p><p>As Jason later sits by the indoor pool, he runs through more scenarios concerning tomorrow’s dinner. He desperately hopes Dick isn’t going to make things weirder than they already are. As far as everyone else knows, Tim is just a friend, and Jason would very much like for them to continue thinking that until further notice.</p><p>Jason runs through some possible scenarios as he sits by the poolside, the unmistakable scent of chlorine heavy in the air. He imagines Tim coming over for dinner, Jason’s family somehow miraculously being normal for one hour, and waving goodbye to Tim without shredding their relationship any further. Right. Jason could dream. He imagines dinner going decently, and then pulling Tim away to law down his feelings. Jason can’t even imagine it without scoffing. Jason doesn’t just go around professing his love to people very often (ever). What would Tim even say? Jason thinks back for the millionth time to the look on Tim’s face as he turned away to leave. He thinks about the way Tim had looked when Jason had pretty much told him there wasn’t a chance for them. He said a lot of things that day, but none of them were how he felt about Tim. He never told Tim the way that he felt like he belonged somewhere (with Tim) when they were together. He never told Tim how crazy, stupid pretty he was, nor did Jason ever get the chance to pull him to his chest and run his hands through those silky black locks that he knows are softer than silk. Jason never did any of that, never told Tim how he made Jason feel, and Jason is trying not to regret it, but it’s hard.</p><p>Now, he has the opportunity to come clean. He can get these new feelings off his chest, just so Tim knows, because he deserves that, doesn’t he? Tim deserves to know how much of an effect he has on Jason. But… there’s a reason Jason let Tim go earlier this week. If Jason tells Tim everything now, he can’t guarantee what Tim will do. He might still leave. He might not. Jason can’t decide which is scarier. Jason can’t lie. He’s scared. The idea of baring himself to Tim like that, of putting himself into such a vulnerable position makes him want to drown himself in the pool in front of him. He doesn’t know what Tim might say.</p><p>If Jason does this and steals Tim away from the future he deserves and has worked so hard for, Jason doesn’t know if he can forgive himself. On the other hand, if he never tells Tim the truth, he doesn’t know if he can live with himself. This week has been bad enough. Can Jason handle a lifetime of the same thing?</p><p>It’s too much to think about, too big of a decision for Jason to make while he lounges here by a pool. It’s the kind of decision that he’s going to remember for the rest of his life, because Tim is Tim, and everything about him has just slipped through all of Jason’s defenses and into the cracks of his ugly, broken heart. That’s just how Tim is—he’s like a liquid gold poured onto the cracked and dirtied ceramic of Jason’s heart, filling the empty spaces and turning the cracks into something beautiful by the sheer power that is Tim. Tim makes everything better simply by existing. That’s just how he is. Jason wishes he could be as good as Tim.</p><p>Jason is brutish and unpleasant and where Tim brings light Jason brings anger and ugly feelings. Jason gets it. He’s not bitter about it, he just wishes he had Tim’s light and purity. He and Tim are like ying and yang, two pieces that are total opposites but perfect counterparts. They balance one another out. Jason wants that balance back in his life, but is he willing to reach for it with the potential of costing Tim everything he’s worked for?</p><p>Jason can’t answer that. He doesn’t know if he ever will be able to form an answer. All he can do is what he always does—keep moving forward. What will happen will happen. Jason just hopes he’ll be ready for it when it does.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Who am I to resist clichés? I am a simple person of simple tastes. </p><p>Let me know what you think, and see you next chapter! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A short chapter today... but an important one :^)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doorbell rings at six o’clock exactly, because of course Tim would be perfectly punctual like that. Jason beats Alfred to the door—not that he was lingering by it or anything, he just happened to be nearby when the bell rang.</p><p>“Hey, Tim.” Jason says, trying not to sound awkward or uncomfortable or like their last conversation was playing on repeat through Jason’s head.</p><p>“Hey, Jason.” Tim smiled, his hair neatly brushed his clothing clean and semiformal. He looks like he’s about to walk into a board meeting or something, which with Bruce Wayne, Jason guesses it’s not that far off. Jason suddenly becomes aware that the simple shirt and pants he’s wearing make him slightly undressed, and Jason resists the flush that wants to emerge on his face.</p><p>“Come in. Uh, Alfred’s finishing up dinner, so we can eat in ten minutes or so.” Jason says. He feels awkward being here with just himself and Tim, like Jason is the one out of place in this situation even though he’s technically the one who lives here. Somehow, Tim blends more here, though. He looks like he could be walking in after a day at the office, ready to kick off his luxury loafers and settle into his own posh life. Jason swallows dryly. “You can hang your coat in there.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Tim looks around, up at the tall ceiling and ornate carvings that are everywhere. “So, you live here. This is your adoptive family.”</p><p>“I don’t live here.” Jason says a little angrily before he can reign himself in. “Not usually. I’m just here until I can find a good job and get out. I told you before, me and my family,” Jason makes air quotes just because, “don’t get along too well.” He sighs. He’s not getting off to a very good start here. “But, yeah. Bruce adopted me as a kid.”</p><p>“Wow. And I thought my parent’s house was nice. Clearly, Jason, you’ve been holding out on me.” Tim says, his face serious but his tone light. Jason smiles thinly. God, this is so awkward. He wants to get this dinner over with as soon as possible.</p><p>As if summoned by his thoughts, Dick waltzes into the entryway, grinning like a madman.</p><p>“Ah, you must be Tim.” Dick puts on his best, charming smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Jason glares daggers at him and simmers, but Dick doesn’t glance his way.</p><p>“Mr. Grayson.” Tim extends his hand. “I heard you’re the one who hired me.”</p><p>“Please, call me Dick, kiddo.” Dick says with a wink. Jason wonders if it would be inappropriate for him to shove Dick out a window right now.</p><p>“Right, thanks, Dick.” Jason shoves him towards the kitchen instead, grabbing Tim’s shoulder and pulling him away. Tim looks a little startled but goes with Jason’s tugging anyway. Dick laughs but lets them be for a minute, probably because he knows that he’s going to get to interrogate Tim to his heart’s content later at the dinner table. “Sorry about him.” Jason says.</p><p>“Don’t worry about. He seems nice. I guess he’s… your brother?”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess you could call him that.” Jason stops, turning to Tim. “Look.” He sighs. “I’m sorry you got suckered into doing this. We can just… do dinner quickly, and then you can never have to see me again.” Jason says, rubbing the back of his neck.</p><p>“What? No, Jason.” Tim says. “Why would I want to never see you again?” Tim stares for half a second before looking down with a flush on his face.</p><p>“Oh.” Jason says, a slight smile brushing his face.</p><p>“So…” Tim says, playing with his sleeve. “What’s for dinner?” Jason smiles a little more and starts leading the way once more.</p><p>They end up sitting across from each other, Bruce sitting between them at the head of the table, Dick at Jason’s other side and Damian and Tim’s side. The youngest looks distinctly disgruntled at being wrangled into this dinner, his dark scowl a sharp contrast to Dick’s peppy grin. Tim sits stiffly, his hands folded in his lap.</p><p>Bruce is a calm neutral to their watercolor splatters of emotions, a very different face then the playboy one he wore at the party. Tim didn’t seem perturbed by the chaos around him. He smiled graciously when Alfred brought him a glass and thanked him.</p><p>“So, Timothy.” Bruce says. Tim sets down his glass, looking dutifully attentive. “I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to everyone here.”</p><p>“No, I haven’t.”</p><p>“This is my son, Dick, and this is Damian.” True to their character, Dick smiles and Damian scowls more.</p><p>“Nice to meet you.” Dick says.</p><p>“How soon can you leave?” Damian says.</p><p>“Damian!” both Dick and Bruce chide.</p><p>Tim looks a little uncertain, but maintains composure.</p><p>“It’s nice to see you, Mr. Grayson, though I believe we’ve actually met before.” Tim says. Everyone looks a little surprised at that. Tim carries on. “I, ah, saw your circus when I was a kid. You signed a picture for me and promised to do your quadruple for me.” Tim’s cheeks turned a little pink. “I realize that you probably said that to all the kids, but I was so excited.”</p><p>Dick narrows his eyes and tilts his head slightly, his long hair falling in his eyes, then he leans back sharply.</p><p>“I remember you! Tiny little kid with these big, blue eyes and the biggest smile.” The trademarked Dick Grayson grin is back in full force. Jason tries to imagine Tim as a tiny little kid. It’s not hard to picture the tiny part, after all, Tim’s still on the short side at age eighteen, and he’s a slight as a wisp, so Jason can only imagine the tiny, petite child that Tim must have been.</p><p>Tim blushes more at Dick’s words. “You were the coolest thing I had ever seen. I remember wanting to be just like you.” He confesses. Jason feels a petty stab of jealousy at all this talk about Dick. Right back to his childhood, it would seem. “I was there—” Tim suddenly breaks off, the smile falling quickly off his face. “I, uh, was there that night. You know.” Oh. That night. Jason feels a cold whisper of horror for toddler Tim, who had to bear witness to the murder of a man and a woman at such a young age.</p><p>Dick looks down at his plate for a moment. “Oh.” Is all he can say. Tim looks ashamed that he brought it up, and Jason shifts uncomfortably, not sure how to ease the sudden tension in the room. Finally, it is Dick who recovers first, putting his head back up.</p><p>“So, that’s how you and I apparently met about a decade ago. What about you and Jason? How did you guys meet?” The smile is back with less vigor, but it jolts them past the suddenly morbid topic.</p><p>“Oh, uh—” Tim looks at Jason, who coughs.</p><p>“Tim saw my band.” Jason explains. “Then we met later and Tim asked me to give him guitar lessons.” Tim nodded, eyes sending a quick thank you for leaving out the mugging-behind-a-bar details.</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim nods. “Then Jason needed a place to stay, so I offered him the spare bedroom in my apartment.” If Tim thinks it’s weird that Jason didn’t come here, he doesn’t say anything about it.</p><p>“I stayed there for a while after the band broke up, until—until I came back here.” Jason says.</p><p>Bruce pauses from his food, and looks strangely at Jason. “Your band broke up?” Jason just wants to scoff, because of course Bruce is only finding out now. He and Bruce may have figured out a way to exist in the same space again, but clearly they still have a long way to go.</p><p>“Uh, yeah. A while ago.” Jason says, somewhat embarrassed to be having this conversation with Tim sitting right there.     </p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that.” Bruce has the sense to look a little ashamed, though Jason is still pretty sure Bruce couldn’t care less about Red Hood and the Outlaws.</p><p>“Yeah, well, it is what it is.” Jason says, taking a particularly harsh stab at his steak. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Tim.” He looks at the younger man, who still looks vaguely uncomfortable to be caught up in the family drama. “How did the auditions go?” Because, really, Jason has been dying to know.</p><p>“Oh! They went well. Yeah, they went really well, I think.” Tim says, smiling a little.</p><p>“Pssh, I’m not surprised.” Jason says. Dick gives him a knowing look from the side.</p><p>“Yeah, you sounded fantastic at the Halloween party.” Dick adds.</p><p>“Oh. Thanks.” Tim sounds pleasantly surprised.</p><p>“What were you auditioning for, Timothy?” Bruce asks.</p><p>“Really just Tim, please.” Tim says, shifting at the formal name. “I auditioned for a musical fellowship for a year-long program to intensively train and perform with my instrument.” Tim says, carefully keeping his expression neutral. Jason sees right through to the wealth of underlying emotions attached to it, though.</p><p>“A year long?” Dick says, surprised. “Is it here in Gotham?”</p><p>“No. It’s a traveling position. I’d spend some time in New York, Chicago, L.A., Metropolis, everywhere. It doesn’t lend itself to a whole lot of settling in.” Tim explains.</p><p>“Oh.” Dick says. “Well, that sounds pretty cool.”</p><p>“I think it will be.” Tim says. “But I’ll miss Gotham if I get to go.” He sighs, picking at his plate with his fork. “But enough about me. What do you do, Dick?”</p><p>“I’m a police officer. Or at least, I was. I still haven’t been approved for action yet, after my injury.”</p><p>“What happened?” Tim looks adorably concerned, and Jason tries not to stare.</p><p>“I got shot.” Dick says with a shrug like it’s no big deal. Tim seems a little bemused, but he doesn’t press.</p><p>“What about you, Damian?” Tim asks, trying to bring the whole table into the conversation. “Where do you go to school?” Jason winces a little. Clearly, Tim doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into by disturbing the Demon Brat.</p><p>Damian tuts. “I am forced to attend Gotham Academy, since Father insists that what they call education there are apparently, ‘necessary skills,’ for me to learn.” He says bitterly. Tim arches an eyebrow.</p><p>“What, aren’t the classes challenging enough for you?”</p><p>“Please. I was reading Shakespeare at age six, far earlier than any of the rest of you simplistic fools were.” Ah, Damian is proving to be his usual charming self. Jason makes a mental note to apologize on his behalf later.</p><p>“Hmm, yes, I suppose. I think I was only six and a half when I read Macbeth.” Tim says coolly. Dick chuckles a little.</p><p>Their conversation is briefly interrupted as Alfred returns to refill glasses, clear plates, and place a chocolate and raspberry tart of some sort in front of them. Alfred is as much of a godsend as usual, it would seem. The conversation delves into meaningless chatter after that, the rest of the family being blessedly normal around Tim. Still, Jason isn’t willing to push his luck, so as soon as he and Tim are done, he’s excusing them and pulling Tim away to show him where to put dishes.</p><p>Jason tries to take Tim’s plate, but he refuses, so they end up side by side at the sink, sleeves rolled up to shove their hands into the soapy waters of the sink.</p><p>“Sorry about them. They can be… well, you saw.” Jason says.</p><p>“It’s okay. They’re nice.” Tim says. “They seem like they care.” Tim comments, scrubbing his plate. Jason shrugs. “Though, what’s the deal with your little brother?”</p><p>“Oh, Damian?” Jason chuffs a quiet laugh. “He’s a brat, just ‘cause he doesn’t know any other way to be.” Jason sees Tim smile out of the corner of his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying it, but he’s actually not that bad.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Tim says in a soft hum. They finish cleaning their dishes, and Jason hands Tim a towel and leans on the kitchen counter.</p><p>“Thanks for enduring dinner. If you wanna go now, you can.”</p><p>“If you want me to go.” Tim says. Jason absently rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans. Decision time.</p><p>“Before you go, do you want to, uh, see the grounds?” Jason says, fighting to keep his expression cool. He’s doing this. He’s really doing this.</p><p>“Sure.” Tim gives and easy shrug, and Jason tries to read the emotion behind his icy eyes, but he’s not sure what the expression is.</p><p>“Cool. Follow me.” Jason heads out of the kitchen and towards the back door. Dick meets them in the hall before they get too far.</p><p>“Hey guys! You’re not leaving yet, are you, Tim?” He asks, looking disappointed.</p><p>“No, we’re gonna go take a walk.” Jason answers for him.</p><p>“Oh. Oh.” Dick says, grinning slyly. “Have fun, you two.” He winks and walks away with a chuckle. Jason growls and considers yelling after Dick, but elects not to since Tim is right there, and, well, he’s got more imperative tasks to deliberate. Like how he’s going to profess his thoughts to Tim.</p><p>Jason holds the back door for Tim, and they both step out into the cold night air. It’s breezier than Jason expected, and momentarily longs for his jacket. Tim is probably chilly, too, but Jason doesn’t want to brave the manor again where he could risk encountering the rest of the family. The chill will encourage his brevity, at least.</p><p>They stroll a little away from the manor, the warm, golden light spilling out of the windows getting dimmer, to where they have to go slow to watch their step. Fortunately, the night is crystal clear, and a star-wreathed moon casts a strong, silvery glow across gravel paths and trim lawns. Once Jason is sure they’re a comfortable distance from manor where no nosey half-brothers or butlers could spy on them, he stops. They’re right by a statue garden, and while some might think the lifelike forms unsettling, Jason thought the setting was rather serene. Maybe it was just Tim’s presence right by his elbow.</p><p>Jason turns to Tim. They’re standing close enough that Jason can almost feel the warmth of Tim’s body heat. This close, the difference in their heights is more apparent. Jason has to tilt his head down to look Tim straight in the eyes, and Tim’s hair falls back slightly past his neck as he lifts his chin to watch Jason right back.</p><p>Jason sighs. His heart is thrumming with an off-kilter series of palpitations that Jason tries to ignore. It’s fine. It’s just Tim. It’s just amazing, gorgeous, talented Tim who somehow slipped right into the ranks of Jason’s closest friends and then a little further. It’s just Tim, whose pale blue eyes are like icicles in that they stab into Jason like knives, without any of the burning cold. It’s just Tim who maybe wants Jason, maybe even like Jason wants Tim. Tim, who’s leaving too soon, who Jason might not see again after this. Jason barely feels the cold with how much warmth is pulsing through his veins. If this is what being in love feels like, Jason has to admit it’s better than any drug or adrenaline high he’s ever experienced.</p><p>Tim shivers, and Jason unthinkingly wraps his hands around Tim’s biceps, feeling the chill on his skin. Tim shivers again. Jason wonders if it was something other than the temperature. Jason’s chest does funny things at the feeling of Tim in his hands.</p><p>“Tim.” He says softly. Tim’s eyes are like whirlpools. Jason can’t escape them, the same way Tim’s lips are like a beacon. His heart does another stutter-y thing.</p><p>“Jason?” Tim’s voice escapes from barely parted lips, as quiet as if Tim had been murmuring to himself. Jason only heard because he was close enough to be breathing in the little puffs of air from Tim’s lungs that showed up white in the nighttime, wintry cold. Jason swallows once. It’s do or die time. Jason drops his hands off of Tim’s shoulders, so he and Tim are just standing a smidgeon under a foot away from each other but not touching.</p><p>“Tim, I—” Jason searches for the words. He’s written songs before, and cracked countless jokes, but here, his face reflected on Tim’s large pupils and framed with Tim’s thick lashes, everything he thought he knew about the English language falls away. Jason’s hand reaches out to grasp Tim’s, his fingers cold in Jason’s warm ones. Eyes flicking down to their hands and then back up, Tim’s breath comes a little quicker.</p><p>“You deserve so much more.” Jason says, scanning Tim’s face. Time crawls.</p><p>Jason breathes. “But I can’t pretend this isn’t happening anymore.” Hands crawl up to grasp Tim’s neck, Tim gets pulled closer until their mouths are almost, so close to brushing, where Jason hesitates for a heartbeat. Tim’s eyes have fluttered shut, and Jason’s lids fall, too. Their mouths meet.</p><p>Jason can’t even begin to describe what kissing Tim feels like. It’s a thousand sensations filling him at once, from the slightly chapped rub of Tim’s mouth to brush of autumn air that neither of them really notices to the pulse that Jason can feel jumping in Tim’s neck where Jason’s heavy hands rest. Tim’s own hands snake over to Jason’s shirt, where long fingers on sharply cut wrists and smooth palms tangle in the cotton of Jason’s shirt. Jason feels like he can sense every texture under his fingertips and lips, that every scent in his nose will be forever seared into his memory, because this kiss is nothing like he’s ever felt before.          </p><p>This is Tim, with a kind of love Jason’s never felt before. Jason does his best to commit every nanosecond to memory as he kisses Tim and he doesn’t pull away, because even as their mouths have just separated for both of them to breathe, Jason is already fearing what Tim will say next. Oh God. Jason did it. He told—or rather showed—Tim the feelings brewing within him. He’s bared his throat to Tim and handed him a knife to press against it. What happens next is entirely up to Tim and Jason is vulnerable and terrified.</p><p>As he opens his eyes, Jason isn’t sure what he’ll see when he does. What he doesn’t expect are the tears glossing Tim’s eyes over so that the light caught in them forms his own sea of stars.</p><p>“Jason…” Tim’s voice is wrecked, hoarse and low and sounding like those tears will bubble over any second. He startles back a breath away, instantly worried. What did he do? Why was Tim crying? What did Jason do?</p><p>Before Jason’s thoughts can run away from him any further, Tim stretches up on his toes and kisses Jason again. It isn’t as deep as before, but Tim still catches the muffled sound coming from Jason’s mouth in his lips. Before the kiss can deepen, Tim stretches away, blinking back the tears that had formed. Jason can’t speak—his heart is in his throat and his head is spinning like Tim just stole all the oxygen from Jason’s lungs.</p><p>Jason slides a hand off Tim’s neck and down so his forearm is pressed against Tim’s back and a bit of his side, neatly tucking the man in the crook of his arm, and he rests his forehead on Tim’s.</p><p>“I can’t pretend.” Jason finishes from before. “And I can’t let you walk away without doing that first, either.” Jason’s tone is silvery light, blending in with the gentle whispers of leaves around them the quiet trickle of water from a miniscule stream somewhere nearby. Tim shifts so that he can bring a hand up to Jason’s face. Jason doesn’t flinch or move away as his fingertips trace Jason’s jaw, brush against his lips.</p><p>“Jason.” Tim looks hopeful and soft and heartbroken all at the same time. His eyes trace Jason’s features for a moment, but then, as if weighted down, they fall from Jason’s face. Jason’s frown of worry matches the one that crosses Tim’s face. Tim gently closes his eyes, taking several deep breaths. When he opens them, the glistening-tear look is back. “I can’t—I don’t—” Tim’s voice is shaky and so soft. He clears his throat, and the worry grows into sadness and keeps building. “I don’t know what to do, Jason.”</p><p>Jason loosens his grip on Tim’s tiny waist—he’s even smaller in Jason’s arms in this moment than he imagined—and Tim drops his hand from Jason’s face.</p><p>“Babybird?”</p><p>“I don’t know, Jason. They want me to choose.” Tim squeezes his eyes shut, and a tear falls, reflecting moonlight. “Everybody wants me to choose and nobody will let me and I just don’t know.” His voice rises in agitation, and Jason thinks that this is not how a first kiss is supposed to go.</p><p>Jason doesn’t know what to say, so he pulls Tim in tighter. He can’t tell Tim what to do. Tim had to decide. Jason knows what he wants. Tim has to decide what’s more important to him, his music or his life here. Jason’s not so egotistical as to think that he’s Tim’s whole life here. He’s seen enough of Tim’s bubbly, blonde friends to know that Tim has a lot of people in his life here. Plus getting a college education. Jason certainly doesn’t regret dropping out of his, but Tim’s the kind of person who that matters to more. All of those things together might be enough to tip the scales toward Tim staying. Or they might not. It’s still up in the air, and Jason can only wait to see where things go.</p><p>“I want to stay here.” Tim whispers roughly. Jason hears the but before it’s spoken. “But I can’t let my mom down. And this music… it could be the biggest opportunity I ever get. How can I turn that down?”</p><p>Just say no! Jason wants to scream. But he isn’t Tim and the decision isn’t his, so he just strokes the back of Tim’s neck. “I get it. I know. But I couldn’t let you leave without really knowing the stakes of what you’re leaving behind.” Tim sniffs, burying his face in the crook of Jason’s neck, and damn if it doesn’t feel amazing to have Tim here, warm and solid and yet so slight in his arms. It’s a little paradise in the moonlight gardens of Wayne Manor. He never wants to let go.</p><p>But it’s getting colder the longer they linger, and Jason knows nothing, especially this, can last forever. So he loosens his arms and pulls away from Tim. Tim sighs wearily as he does, squeezing his eyes shut to shed the last of his tears before he opens them again.</p><p>“I like you, Jason. A lot. No one else has ever made me smile so much. You living with me has been like a dream. I want…” He trails off, reaching out to squeeze Jason’s hand tightly. “I want this.”  A sharp laugh. “God, do I want this. But I just don’t know. I can’t—I can’t commit to anything right now. Not until I decide.” The words make something in Jason’s chest that had been coiled tight with anticipation collapse in disappointment.</p><p>It’s stupid. He knew going into this that this moment wouldn’t magically resolve anything. Life is seldom so easily pieced together. Yet, part of him, the part that secretly enjoys Disney movies and romantic novels, couldn’t help hoping that maybe he would be enough. He had hoped that he just might be able to pull Tim back from the precipice of the future he was dangling on the verge of. But Tim told it like it was. Jason was no Disney prince, and one kiss, however magical it felt, wasn’t going to miraculously solve their problems.</p><p>“I get it.” Jason says, trying to compose his features for Tim’s sake. The last thing he wants to do is to guilt Tim into anything. Whatever Tim does, Jason knows it has to be Tim’s choice, otherwise he’ll never really be happy. Then again, who knows if he could really be happy with Jason, anyway. Tim is so wonderful and deserves someone far better than Jason. That’s the third option Jason has avoided putting too much consideration into—Tim staying in Gotham but leaving Jason behind. It’s a painful, stabbing thought that Jason tries not to dwell on. It won’t do him any good to ponder it much longer.</p><p>Whatever happens, it’s Tim’s call now, and Jason just has to let him choose and roll with whatever punches come his way. So Jason doesn’t let Tim’s hand go, but he doesn’t pull him close again, either. Instead, he just listens to the quiet crunching of gravel underfoot, and the whispery rustle of their clothes as they amble back toward the house.</p><p>They pause in front of the back door, facing each other.</p><p>“Let me know how it goes as soon as you find out?” Jason gives a small smile. Tim smiles back at him with his beautiful, perfect face, and nods.</p><p>“Of course.” He flushes a little and looks at Jason’s ear instead of his eyes. “And, uh, thanks. For, you know. The…”</p><p>“Yeah. Thank you.” Jason says, because he knows. He opens the front door and steps inside, but lingers.</p><p>“Good bye, Tim!” Dick says as he arrives from foot of the stairs nearby. “It was awesome meeting you.” Dick grins easily. “Come by again, y’hear?” He asks, and Tim nods dutifully.</p><p>“Thanks for having me, Mister—ah, Dick.” Tim corrects quickly. Dick laughs.</p><p>“Anytime, kiddo. Jay-Jay needs more friends, you know?”</p><p>“Hey!” Jason protests, and both Tim and Dick laugh at him. “Alright, that’s enough of gang-up-on-Jason. Bye, Tim.”</p><p>Tim turns to look at Jason as he buttons up his coat, a soft twinkle in his eyes. “Bye, Jason.” Jason’s heart pumps hard, once, and then Tim is slipping out the door and the heavy wood is clicking shut, Dick sliding the heavy bolts into place.</p><p>The older man turns to Jason with an eager look in his eye. “You’ve got it bad, Jason!” He exclaims. “You should have seen your own face. Both of you! Please tell me you talked about it. You can’t both be looking at each other with those big, sappy eyes and not have talked about it.”</p><p>“Well, we didn’t talk so much as…” Jason says, humoring Dick in a way he normally would not since his senses are still thrumming the garden kiss. Dick thumps Jason heartily on the shoulder.</p><p>“Good for you, little wing. He’s cute.” Jason shifts his weight awkwardly, but smiles lightly.</p><p>“Yeah. He sure is.”</p><p>He sure is.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're getting closer to the end! Let me know what you think &lt;3 </p><p>See you next chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A little late on this chapter, but it's here now! These boys have a lot of talking they need to do.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim wakes from a restless night feeling both like he is flying and like he is plummeting fast towards a rocky impact. He can’t get last night out of his head. Walking in the gardens. Jason, right there and closer than he’d been in weeks. The unthinkable happening—Tim kissing Jason. It was both everything and nothing like he’d expected. It was just so Jason in character, the strong but gentle pressure of his lips, the slight taste of alcohol on his breath, his big hands so warm and sturdy. Tim had felt like he was going to dissolve into a puddle right through Jason’s fingertips.</p><p>It was wonderful for those few breathless seconds before it was over. Just Tim and Jason and the empty, empty sky, just as Tim would have imagined it. It was a soaring high unlike anything Tim’s ever felt before, but it stung like familiar discontent when he had to pull away to catch his breath, the oxygen flowing back to his brain carrying little signs reminding him why he can’t do that with Jason—with anyone.</p><p>He has a huge opportunity in front of him, just within his fingertips, and it’s everything he could have ever dreamed of as a violinist. It’s the chance to make his dreams come true, but somehow, in the process, he’d be throwing away dreams he didn’t even know he had. Like Jason.</p><p>Jason is a dream come true, so powerful and sensitive underneath his tough-guy layers. Life, or even just a relationship with Jason is a dream he never knew he had until he was within inches of losing it. Tim had never put much thought into what he wanted in a partner. He was always too busy, busy with school, work, rehearsals and performances to spend time daydreaming about lovers. Sure, he knew he swung both ways and what he thought he liked, but he was hardly browsing as he went through life. Jason had been an accident, a chance encounter that spiraled out of Tim’s hands before he ever had a chance of controlling it. So there it was, another dream, directly incongruous with his other dream.</p><p>That wasn’t all. The last month of Gotham University with his new friends had been a kind of fun he didn’t think was possible for him. Friends like that were always something everyone else did, something Tim didn’t have time or the patience for. He’d thought it would be too time-consuming and difficult to assemble his own group of friends. As it turns out, it was, in fact, so easy he didn’t have to arrange it himself. Stephanie Brown had practically forced it upon him, not that he was complaining. Meeting her and Cassie and Bart and Kon has been one of the highlights of Tim’s year, and even though he’s barely spent any time with them, the acceptance they broadcasted made Tim desperate for more. Apparently, having several friends is really fun.</p><p>It turns out having really good friends is something Tim can have, but not without cost. Apparently the universe is too cruel to let him have everything he wants. If he’s going to jump off of where he stands now for one dream, he’s going to have to accept that he’ll be letting the other one go. So now, after all that frustration about others making decisions for him, it is Tim’s time to pick what he wants to do. There’s an overwhelming amount of pressure for everyone on all sides. His mother obviously expects no less than compliance from him to take his musical opportunity, and while Jason clearly doesn’t want to pressure Tim into doing anything, just the weight of what might be is enough to make Tim’s knees want to crumple.</p><p>He has to choose. Until he does, he can’t do this with Jason, can’t do this <em>to</em> Jason. He’s too busy drowning in his own agitation to worry much about crying in Jason’s arms; it’s not like it’s the first time, anyways. In the heat of the moment, he opens up to Jason, explains why he can’t kiss Jason like he wants to, not yet, and maybe not ever. That hurts, even now. Tim rolls out of bed feeling like he barely slept a wink—which was pretty much true, but it doesn’t make him any less grumpy. He thinks of the way Jason’s hands felt on his neck, his hips, holding his hand, as he prepares himself coffee. He needs to do what he does best and just think about this.</p><p>Maybe if he tries to break this down logically and objectively, he can find some sort of agreement with himself over which dream he’s going to jump for. He sits on the sofa and stares blankly out the window as he tries that, but despite everything pointing to this musical future, he can’t shake this feeling of wrongness. It’s frustrating, not being able to rely on his brain to solve this problem. These irksome sensations in his chest and the ghost of Jason’s breath on his lips just keep pulling him away. Tim finishes his coffee without even realizing he’s done so. He checks the time on his phone—a little under an half an hour passes without his realizing it. He huffs and goes to refill his mug. He needs to do something.</p><p>He can’t just sit here for the next however long it takes to for the scholarship committee to get back to him and do nothing. He’s going to spontaneously combust if he doesn’t mobilize himself. He sits restlessly for a minute, tapping his fingers on his knees. Okay, enough. He hops up and grabs his wallet. He’s pretty sure Stephanie’s psychology class will be getting out in the next thirty five minutes, so if he hurries, he can be there waiting with a coffee by the time she finishes.</p><p>He’s throwing on his fall gear, heading out the door, and stopping by his usual coffee café in no time. Tim arrives at the psych hall with time to spare. It’s a cold day today, so he tugs his scarf tighter around his neck as he leans against the wall while waiting for Steph.</p><p>There’s a general chattering and scraping of chairs as the class is dismissed, and Tim stays still against the wall, waiting for Steph to notice him. She’s talking with another girl, but when she sees Tim, her eyes light up and she waves goodbye to the girl.</p><p>“Tim, what are you doing here?” She grins, then notices the other drink in his hand, which he offers to her. “Is that coffee? Tim, you are an angel on earth.” She proclaims and graciously accepts the cup. She hums appreciatively when she takes her first sip. “You even did the creamer right and everything!”</p><p>Tim smiles. “How’s school?”</p><p>“Oh, you know.” She makes a face. “Still struggling with biology, but I’m getting by.”</p><p>“That’s good.” Tim nods.</p><p>“So, why are you here? Not that I mind, or anything, it’s just I’ve barely heard from or seen you in a while. What’s going on?”</p><p>“A lot of things.” Tim says quietly. “You have time to go sit somewhere and chat? I could use a little therapy right now.”</p><p>“Of course.” She says. “Come on. We can go hang out in my dorm if you want. I need to drop my binder off, anyway. My roommate has class until lunch.”</p><p>“Sure, sounds good.” Tim says, smiling in response to Stephanie’s ever present beaming smile. To be honest, he feels better already, just being around her. She seems to have that effect on him. They walk across campus, Stephanie tugging on her bright pink jacket as they head out into the breezy day. It’s still a while before noon, but the clouds are thick and dark enough that it could still be just past dawn. Tim shivers a little at a particularly nippy gust and takes of his coat with a sigh of relief when they enter Steph’s dorm. She lets them into her room, and Tim takes in the bright decorations and posters and throw pillows that all seem very Stephanie. She plops down on one bed and indicates at the other one for Tim. Tim settles in on the bed.</p><p>“So what’s going on?” Steph says, tossing her bag against the foot of the bed.</p><p>“Remember how I said there was that big thing I was auditioning for?”</p><p>“Yeah?</p><p>“Well, I auditioned for it last week.”</p><p>“You did? How did it go?” Steph leans forward over her crossed legs. “Did you get in?”</p><p>“I don’t know yet. I won’t find out for a little while, but they’ll probably get back to me pretty soon. I don’t know, though. I felt really good about it, but now as each day goes on it gets worse and worse.”</p><p>“Oh, Tim, I’m sure you were fantastic. I bet you’ve got nothing to worry about.” She reassures him.</p><p>“No, you don’t get it.” Tim says, getting a little frustrated. “I don’t know if I want to do it anymore.” Stephanie purses her lips, her brows forming a concerned furrow.</p><p>“You don’t?”</p><p>“I don’t know, and before you try to give advice, let me just get this off my chest, okay?”</p><p>“Whatever you need, Tim, honey.” She says, and Tim flushes a little at the name, but in a good way.</p><p>“It’s kind of complicated. You remember Jason?” He asks.</p><p>“The guy with the nice eyes?” Tim frowns. “Sorry, yeah, I remember him. Why? Did he do something?”</p><p>“Well, I guess you could say that. Not exactly. I don’t think he meant to do anything, but…” Tim bites his lip. He’s not sure it’s common knowledge that he likes guys, too, so he’s not sure how to phrase his next sentence.</p><p>“Well, I kind of have a massive crush on him.”</p><p>“What?” A grin of delight splits Stephanie’s face, and she leans forward more, her long blonde hair falling forwards off one shoulder in a shimmery wave. “You like him, huh?” She looks like she’s been given a huge box of chocolates and five hundred dollars.</p><p>Tim blushes. He doesn’t like talking about it very much. “Yeah. I do. A lot.”</p><p>“That’s so cute! Have you asked him out? Does he know? Wait, are you already dating?” She fires off, giving him an intense tell-me-everything-now look.</p><p>“No, we’re not dating!” Tim says quickly, waving his hands. “But, yeah, he knows. That’s part of what I wanted to talk about.”</p><p>“Tell me everything.” Stephanie gasps, looking fully enraptured in the drama of Tim and Jason.</p><p>“Well, last night we kind of—” Tim pauses remembering Jason’s hands on his neck, and the burning intensity in his eyes that made Tim feel like he was about to melt.</p><p>“Omigod. You slept with him?” Steph drops her voice to a whisper. Tim is startled out of his thoughts.</p><p>“What?” Tim’s mouth falls open. “No, Stephanie, we just kissed, that’s all.” He flushes bright red, feeling suddenly rather uncomfortable.</p><p>“Oh. Sorry.” She giggles. “You kissed? That’s fantastic, Tim. I’m so happy for you.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Tim smiles, still feeling awkward. “But I have a problem.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Well, it’s the audition, the music thing. If I get it, I’ll be leaving Gotham, and I might never come back. You understand why I don’t want to start a relationship right before I fly away, right?”</p><p>“Oh.” Stephanie says, leaning back against the wall. “I see.”</p><p>“And I like Jason. I really like him, actually. He’s funny, and nice, and…” Tim trails off when he sees the amused smile tugging at Stephanie’s lips. “Right, you get the point. It’s just, I really want to be with him.”</p><p>“But you can’t if you get into the music program.” Stephanie finishes.</p><p>“Right.” Tim says with a frown. They both pause to sip at their cooling coffees. Tim looks out the window at the gray sky that’s begun to shed raindrops. “But I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Steph. And he feels the same.”</p><p>“Wow.” She says, shaking her head. “You’ve got yourself a real dilemma, huh, Boy Wonder?”</p><p>“Don’t I know it.” Tim agrees. “Also, if I go, I’ll barely ever get to see you and Kon and Bart and Cassie. I was just getting to know you guys better, and now I have to go.”</p><p>“Well, hang on, it’s not like we can’t text or call. You just have to actually answer your phone once in a while. You do know it doesn’t just receive messages, right?”</p><p>“Sorry, point taken.” Tim smiles softly. He takes another sip at the bitter coffee in his cup. “It’s just so much to choose between, you know? I don’t want to have to give up my social life for my music, but I don’t want to lose this opportunity, either. What if this is it? What if this is my big break, my defining moment, where the choice I make here is the difference between my success or failure?”</p><p>Stephanie is silent for a moment. “There’s more than one way to be successful, Tim.” She says. Tim sighs. He knows, it’s just—well, it’s really difficult. “Also, don’t think you won’t make any friends where you go. You’re a really nice guy, Tim, and people would love to get to know you if you let them in.” She sighs, tucking her hair back behind her ear.</p><p>“I know.” Tim says quietly. “But I don’t know if I can just walk away—from my music or from my life here. I just wish I could have both.”</p><p>“But you can’t.”</p><p>“But I can’t.” Tim agrees.</p><p>“I can’t tell you what to do, Tim, if that’s what you were hoping for.” Stephanie says. “The only person who should be making this decision is you. You have to let your gut guide you.”</p><p>“But I don’t know what it’s telling me to do.” Tim says, feeling a little petulant.</p><p>“You will.” Stephanie says a little stronger. “I know you’ll figure it out. But whatever you do, Tim, don’t worry about hurting other people’s feelings. Sometimes the best thing you can do is to just do what’s best for you. Got it?”</p><p>“We’ll see.” Tim says, looking down at his lap. They’re both quiet for a minute, before Stephanie coughs and scoots off the bed.</p><p>“Well, that’s enough moping for today. You came to me for help, and Doctor Stephanie is prescribing you some quality gaming time. She scoots over to the TV set in a corner and turns it on. Tim reflexively catches the Xbox controller she throws at him, and blinks at it for a moment. “Come on, haven’t you ever seen an Xbox before?” Stephanie teases.</p><p>“Ha, ha.” Tim says, turning his controller on. “Fine. You want to play? You’re on. Prepare to be beaten, blondie.”</p><p>“Puh-lease.” Stephanie beams at him. “They don’t call me the Black-Ops Queen for nothing, you know.”</p><p>“You know you can’t be the queen of everything, right?”</p><p>“Just watch me.” She smiles, and Tim smiles too. Steph’s right. He needs to relax a little bit. Taking an hour to beat Stephanie at videogames sounds like the perfect remedy for his tension.</p><p>“You’re going down.” Tim proclaims. “I’m overthrowing your reign.”</p><p>“I’d like to see you try.”</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Tim sleeps a little easier after his time with Stephanie. Even though he was nowhere near selecting his path, just being able to talk about the thoughts brewing in his head helped to clear it. He feels well rested, but it’s primarily because he was able to get his mind off everything that’s been rattling about in his skull for the last several weeks. Like Jason. Tim’s fingers stutter for a moment on the neck of his violin. He sighs in frustration as he loses the rhythm of his piece. He can’t even lose himself in his music without Jason permeating his thoughts. Tim puts the violin back in its case and checks his phone. No calls yet. He sighs. He knows it’s too soon for the scholarship committee to have reached any sort of consensus, but he can’t help checking over and over again. It’s nerve-wracking, because once the decision has been made, there will be no more time for Tim to deliberate over his future. He will have to choose, and it scares him. He’s not sure he’s ready for what comes after the call.</p><p>Tim expects the rest of the week to either go by entirely too fast or languishingly slow. It does neither. Tim finds himself numb to the passing of time. His week is a stretch of long moments of not calling Jason and snippets of hours of being on his own. Tim does a plethora of average things. He makes dinners and texts his friends and even goes to meet them for pizza and meaningless gossip once. He doesn’t really remember how he ended up sitting on his sofa on the second Sunday of November watching a movie, but there he is. When he hears his phone ring, his heart jumps in a flutter of excitement and nerves. It could be the scholarship committee, or it could be Jason. He’s not sure which one he wants it to be more. To his disappointment and slight surprise, it’s neither. He really didn’t expect to see this number right now, but there it is, so he answers after pausing his movie and standing up.</p><p>“Dad?”</p><p>“Hey, kiddo.” Jack Drake’s voice comes through the line. Tim is definitely surprised, though not unpleasantly. He hasn’t talked much with him recently, since Tim’s mom single-handedly plotted most of Tim’s future.</p><p>“Hey. It’s nice to hear from you.” Tim says.</p><p>“I’ve been meaning to call for such a long time, but I’ve had my hands full with the dig site. It’s really fascinating stuff.”</p><p>“Mm-hmm.” Tim says neutrally. He’s heard this tale before. It’s okay; he gets it. It’s hard to be as busy as Jack Drake and keep up with a somewhat-independent-mostly-adult son.</p><p>“How are things going there, Tim?” his dad asks.</p><p>“Oh. Well. They’re good.” Tim says, trying to put as much enthusiasm into the words as possible. An unconvinced silence sits for a second, before they talk again.</p><p>“Well, that’s good. Say, are you busy tomorrow night?”</p><p>“What?” Tim says.</p><p>“Are you busy tomorrow night? I’m in town for a bit, and we’re long overdue for a good father-to-son dinner.” Tim clutches the phone silently, because did his dad really just invite him to dinner to catch up? It’s almost unreal. But the light cough on the other end of the line tells him that his father did, in fact, just invite him to catch up. Huh.</p><p>“No, I’m not busy. Where do you want to go?”</p><p>“I don’t want to go out anywhere. Why don’t we eat at the house and I’ll cook? And before you ask, your mother has a meeting late tomorrow, so we can spend some quality time just the two of us.”</p><p>“That sounds nice.” Tim says honestly.</p><p>“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then? I’ll text you tomorrow about times and whatnot.”</p><p>“Alright.” Tim says, listening to the rumble of his father’s voice as he says good night. He loves his dad, he really does, but Tim is unsure if he’s ready to have dinner with him yet. Tim’s going to want to spill everything about Jason and his troubles to him. Then again, Tim has always been remarkably good at masking his true emotions from his parents. This will hardly be anything new.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Tim feels odd driving up to the Drake house in his bright red car after having been gone for so long. The driveway up the garage is exactly like it was every day of his middle school, high school, and beginning college days. He could be driving up to a scene where his mom and dad are sitting outside while his ten-year-old self wanders around studying bugs and drawing diagrams from his books in chalk on the pavement. Not that that was a common occurrence in his childhood. Most of his parents’ time was spent indoors, if not away at the dig site for the latest and greatest of their discoveries.</p><p>Tim shakes the mental image of his younger self from mind and pulls his keys from the ignition. It feels weird to knock on the door of the house he lived most of his life at, but he does because he left his key in a box somewhere back at his apartment. His dad answers the door with a smile on his face and a smear of something food-related on his face.</p><p>“Tim!” He says, pulling Tim in for a hug. Tim hugs back, and takes his shoes off as he enters the house and stands upon the pristinely polished hardwood floors.</p><p>“Hey, Dad.”</p><p>“Well, come on in. Don’t stand there in the cold and rain waiting for me to invite you in. You’re not a vampire, Tim.”</p><p>“Hah.” Tim laughs lightly as he sheds his outer layers. “Don’t be sure.” His dad laughs, too, and Tim warms a little. They head into the kitchen, where Tim takes a seat at the counter while his dad turns up the heat on a stove burner boiling a pot of water.</p><p>“So, kiddo, how’s life been treating you?” He asks, pouring Tim a glass of water.</p><p>“You know.” Tim says with a weak smile. “The same.” His dad has been absent for so much of the process so far, letting his mother take the lead, so Jack hasn’t really been around to get a real good idea of what Tim’s life is like. Tim shakes off his frustration, though. It’s not like his dad isn’t trying, he just doesn’t really know how to connect with Tim.</p><p>After all, where his dad was a sports fanatic and history buff, Tim was a musician and a business man. The closest they’ve really come to bonding over their interests was when Tim was on his high school’s gymnastics team. Though his dad didn’t really see it on the same level as he saw football or basketball, he was still extremely supportive of Tim doing that. Now, though, Tim’s left gymnastics for college, and music has become Tim’s main job and hobby.</p><p>Despite their disconnect, Jack did technically raise Tim, and Tim was hardly even trying, so his dad picks up on his unhappy undertones.</p><p>“What’s going on, Tim?” His voice is concerned, and leans on the counter in front of Tim.</p><p>Tim takes a sip of water.</p><p>So much for avoiding this topic. He supposes it was inevitable.</p><p>“Can I be honest with you, Dad?” His dad’s lips twitch, and Tim knows he’s thinking the same thing: that’d be a first.</p><p>“You know you always can.”</p><p>“I’m having doubts about this music program.” Tim admits. His dad furrows his brow in an expression that mirrors Tim’s own worried face so well.</p><p>“You are? Have you changed your mind about what you want to do after college?”</p><p>“No, it’s not that.” Tim says hurriedly. Music is still his life. Whatever he does or whoever he ends up with, that’s not going to change.</p><p>“Then what is it?”</p><p>Tim stares at his glass, a little embarrassed. He’s still awkward talking about this. “I sort of met someone.” He mutters. His dad’s eyebrows arch up.</p><p>“You met someone?”</p><p>“Yeah, and I really, really like them.” Tim admits as if he’s giving away top secret information.</p><p>“Who is it?”</p><p>“Well, his name’s Jason.”</p><p>“Jason, huh?” His dad says. Tim risks a glance at his face, and is relieved to see nothing worthy of alarm on his expression. He just seems neutral so far. Tim wants to feel relieved for that, but he’s not going to relax just yet. “And you want to stay with him more than you want this music opportunity?”</p><p>Tim huffs. “I don’t know. Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t want to have to choose.” Tim says forlornly.</p><p>“I see.” His father says contemplatively. “Tim, I won’t tell you exactly what to do. I could, but I’ll leave that to your mother. I will tell you, though, you need to make what you know is the responsible decision. It’s hard to comprehend right now, but what you do now is going to have big impacts on the rest of your life. I don’t want you to regret anything.”</p><p>“It just seems impossible!” Tim says, frustrated. “Either way, I’m afraid I’ll regret choosing one or the other. It isn’t fair.”</p><p>His dad chuckles at that. “If I had a nickel for every time I heard that…” he says. “Life is never fair, Tim. Part of being your own, grown man is understanding that. You’re going to have to make the hard choices over and over again, for the rest of your life. There’s a thousand what-ifs to think about. But you can’t dwell on them.” Tim frowns.</p><p>“Whenever your mother and I go on digs, I always look at the remnants of all those lives from so many centuries ago, and wonder where they would be if they hadn’t settled in that very place. But it ultimately doesn’t matter. The people who lived in those places are long since gone. They’re buried under years of history. The only thing left for them to do is to contribute their pasts to help us for our future. Do you understand?”</p><p>“I think so.” Tim says, furrowing his brow. Not pondering the what ifs. But if he doesn’t, how is he supposed to make a decision about Jason and his music and his friends? They sit in silence for a moment before a hissing, bubbling sound comes from the stove. Tim snaps to attention to see the pot boiling over, spilling roiling water onto the stove with angry sizzles. His dad grabs for it, but grunts in pain when a splash of boiling water jumps out onto his wrist.</p><p>Both Tim and his dad spring into action, Tim turning the stove down and moving the pot off the red-hot burner while his dad shoves his hand under the faucet and turns it to its coldest setting.</p><p>“Oops.” His dad says. “Acted too fast.” His dad sighs. Tim winces a little.</p><p>“Why don’t you let me help?” he offers. He knows his dad has lived the last couple decades of his life mostly off of takeout and simple sandwiches, since travelling didn’t really lend itself to culinary mastery. His dad looks like he’s about to reject Tim’s offer, but takes another look at the red mark already emerging in its ugly, seared glory and concedes.</p><p>“Alright. Why don’t you put the pasta in to cook, and I’ll wrap this and start on the sauce?”</p><p>“You got it.” They work in their silent partnership, but Tim still hears his dad’s words in his head. He has to make the hard choices. Well, it’s a hard choice, that’s for certain. At least his dad didn’t pry too much about Jason, Tim thinks. Then again, he’s probably already heard his mom’s unpleasant side of the story. Though his dad didn’t act like he knew anything more than what Tim told him, Jack’s always been that kind of tactful quiet before. It’s part of why he fits so well with Tim’s mom, her loud, commanding presence, and his taciturn thoughtfulness.</p><p>They talk about other things for the rest of the evening, but Tim thinks about his father’s words long after they were uttered. Sometimes, he has to make the hard decisions. The hard decisions. It’s approaching decision time, and Tim knows it. He just hopes he’ll have found the strength and wisdom to make the right one when it’s asked of him. He has to. His future is riding on it.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>The call comes while Tim is in the Gotham Library. He’s been expecting it any day soon, so when his phone buzzes clearly with an unknown number, Tim’s heart seizes up. This is it. The red-headed woman behind the library desk gives him a sharp glare, so Tim quickly stands and moves into a nearby, open study room to take the call.</p><p>“Hello?” His voice is steady despite the whirling tempest in his mind. Wait. He’s not ready. He hasn’t thought the whole thing through yet. He hasn’t really talked about it with Jason or Conner and Cassie yet, and he’s still panicking internally.</p><p>“Is Timothy Drake available?” A woman’s voice.</p><p>“This is he.”</p><p>“Well, congratulations, Timothy. My name is Linda Clift, and I’m delighted to tell you that you have been selected by the National Foundation for Collegiate Musicians to partake in the year-long study opportunity.” Tim’s stomach plummets away from him and through the concrete floor under his feet. He did it. He won.</p><p>He won.</p><p>The immediate thrill of the news seizes him, and his heartbeat flutters. He did it. He, Tim Drake, was selected as one of the best out of hundreds of protégés. Tim’s mind is numb with the shock of it. It doesn’t feel real. Tim feels as if he eavesdropping on some other raven-haired, blue-eyed man who answered the phone.</p><p>Yet, it is his voice that answers, “Thank you so much. I’m honored to be selected for this.” His voice seems too loud in the cramped space of the tiny room, boxed in by four peeling walls and a ceiling with pipes running through it.</p><p>“You should be proud.” Linda says. “You’ve earned it. The judges were very impressed with your performance. They’ll want to congratulate you in person during the award ceremony.”</p><p>The award ceremony. Oh. Oh, right! The warmth of victory is washed out by a sudden, cold wave of alarm. He’s doing this, he’s stumbling onto the music’s path without even realizing he was at the crossroad. He barely catches the date and time of the ceremony, he’s so lost in his emotions. Fortunately, he catches something about a confirmation email that will have all the necessary details.</p><p>“Yes, thank you.” Tim says distantly. “I’m looking forward to it.” Then the woman hangs up and Tim is frozen in place. He won. This is real. He’s truly been selected to partake in the program of his dreams—and leave the people of his dreams behind. What does he do? Tim realizes too late that he missed the best opportunity to step off the train he’s on, and as it accelerates towards the next part of his life, he’s suddenly, terribly not sure this is really where he wants to go. But it’s too late, and he just accepted their offer, and any thoughts of spending a future with Jason peel painfully off of him like losing a layer of skin and leaving him agonizingly, terrifyingly exposed.</p><p>It’s done. He won, and he lost so much at the same time. He blinks away a few deviant tears that refused to stay submerged. He shouldn’t be sad. He should be thrilled, delighted, bursting at the seams with excitement. After all, he’s just been handed everything he’s wanted for so long. His mother is going to be so proud, his father delighted, and Jason…</p><p>Tim has to tell him. He has to tell them all. He’s going, and there’s no stopping him because it’s too late and he’s already signed his name on the devil’s scroll. He’s going, and there’s nothing anyone else can do about it now. Tim leans on the table next to him and closes his eyes.</p><p>He needs to catch his breath, needs to process this. He’s not sure he fully understands what just happened. But, there are calls to make. Tim gathers himself and remerges to collect the books he left haphazardly at his spot outside the study room. He’ll go home first, then make his calls. Maybe he’ll even go tell Stephanie in person. Then again, maybe not. He’s probably going to cry.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>The award ceremony is scheduled for Thursday the nineteenth, five days from when Tim received the phone call. Tim can bring four guests. Both his parents are going, obviously. Tim toys with the idea of inviting Jason or Stephanie or Kon. He’s afraid that will be too awkward, though, so he elects not to use the remaining two. It’s only a few days before the ceremony, and Tim still hasn’t told anyone yet.</p><p>Maybe it’s because it doesn’t feel final yet. Somewhere in the deepest part of Tim’s being, he hasn’t fully accepted that he’s leaving Gotham, possibly for good, and with it everything he had built here. But he knows that once he’s stepping up onto that stage and officially accepting the offer, that will be that. Though the window is already slim and shrinking with each passing hour, Tim can’t ignore that the chance to jump out and return to Jason still exists.</p><p>He hasn’t made it official yet, not with the people he’s letting go, and he’s afraid that once he does, everything will become too real too fast. So he doesn’t call Jason, and he doesn’t visit Stephanie, and he doesn’t text Bart or Cassie. Not yet. Before he knows it, it’s past mid-November and the ceremony is the next day and he still hasn’t told anyone.</p><p>He wants to make the responsible decision. He wants to make a decision that he can live with and even be happy with. When he has to choose, however, it seems like happiness on either path isn’t something in store for him. Either way, he’s going to hurt the people he loves. If he doesn’t choose his music, his mother will be devastated and even angry that Tim could throw away the chance of a lifetime. If Tim does what his mother wants, then he’ll be leaving Jason behind, after they kissed no less. How can Tim do this to anyone? How could anyone do this to him? Make him choose?</p><p>Yet, somehow, here he is, in the dilemma of a lifetime.</p><p>His father comes to pick him up for the ceremony.</p><p>“Hey, kiddo.” He greets as Tim opens the door. “You ready to go?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim says, stepping out and locking the door behind him. He brushes his hair off his face. “Let’s go.” His father offered to drive, and decided he would accept. His mother would be meeting them at the university. Normally, Tim would insist on taking himself, but he’s feeling frayed and nervous, and honestly? He could just use a little paternal support right now.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” His father says. He looks a little concerned, and Tim wonders if he is still pale.</p><p>“I’m… I’ll be alright.”</p><p>“Is this about that boy?” His dad asks as they climb into his black vehicle. Tim doesn’t answer. He supposes it must be pretty obvious, since he hasn’t really suffered from nerves for a long time. After all, he already passed the auditions. This is just the coronation.</p><p>His father nods as if he suspected as much.</p><p>“Well, I’m proud of you for making a decision.” He says. Tim’s stomach churns a little. He didn’t really make a decision; Tim hasn’t done much decision making in a long time. He’s just been going with the flow of things, catching what’s thrown at him and adapting.</p><p>Tim looks out the window and tries not to think too hard about how he’s leaving this all behind. Tim feels his dad look at him and then back to the road.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Tim. You’re going to be so great, and I think you’ll really love this music program. Did you hear about the first place you’re staying at? It sounds like it’s right on the ocean.” Tim sighs. Excellent. He can drown himself in the waves if missing Jason becomes too much.</p><p>He really needs to call Jason. Then again, he’s not sure a call will suffice. He promised Jason he would let him know as soon as possible, but every time he starts to type out a message, it sounds dumb and he has to erase it. When he tries to call, his heart picks up to the point where he has to abandon the endeavor.</p><p>Now the ceremony is happening, he won’t have much time left. If he’s going to say anything, he’s going to have to do it soon. Great. Another thing for Tim to look forward to.</p><p>The car ride is quiet. Tim tries to keep up with the conversation, he really does, but when it becomes clear that Tim’s not going to say anything beyond short sentences punctuated with moody glares, they lapse into silence.</p><p>The sky is cloudier than it was the last time they drove out to Metropolis. It seems that the Gotham winter has spread like a cancer over the rest of the countryside, with light rain speckling the windows of the vehicle and the layers of clouds turning the sunlight a Gotham trademarked gray. Tim rubs his arms as a phantom chill runs through him.</p><p>He still feels cold even though the heat is on the whole ride over, and the lecture hall they wait in feels abnormally drafty. Tim settles in with his mother and father in the front, along with the other students who had been selected. There aren’t a lot of them. Tim memorizes their faces and notes their attire. These are the people he’s going to have to get to know over the next year. He spends the dead time before the start of the ceremony analyzing his fellow winners.</p><p>Even when the ceremony begins and they call him up with the others to stand on the stage, Tim has to fight to keep himself grounded. He’s here. It’s real. He’s leaving. Tim’s smile becomes a little more forced, and he has to work to focus on the words the woman who introduced herself as Linda Clift congratulated each contestant and has the judges share their thoughts on each performer and their excellence. Tim barely hears the praises that fall from the lips of the judges, and he mindlessly thanks them, accepts his certificate, and returns to his seat.</p><p>He’s leaving, and he hasn’t told Jason or Cassie or anyone. Tim swallows the lump in his throat. He can do this. He wants this. He’s been waiting for an opportunity like this for years. He’s thrilled to have finally achieved it. He really is. Outside of all the drama in Tim’s life, he’s ridiculously excited about some of the big names of musicians who will be involved in his instruction. It’s going to be awesome.</p><p>He just wishes he didn’t have to sacrifice so much to get it.</p><p>But it’s as his father says: sometimes he has to make the hard decisions, and goodness knows this qualifies. Tim is his own, responsible person, and he’s doing the right thing by focusing on his goals and getting there. He is.</p><p>He’ll convince himself of this eventually, he’s sure.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>He ends up sending a series of text messages to his friends telling them he needs to meet up with them. He has a little over a week before his flight to California leaves. He is able to arrange a Saturday lunch with his friends on short notice. Tim still hasn’t texted Jason.</p><p>They meet at their pizza place again. Tim nostalgically remembers his first time here as he walks in on his own. He is the second to last one there, with only Bart still not present (“For someone who loves to run so much, it seems like he mostly runs late,” Conner jokes). Tim tries to be his usual self with them, but it’s hard. He feels like he’s breaking terminal news to them.</p><p>Tim can’t quite shake his morbid mood by the time Bart appears, but he smiles at the group anyways. He loves them. His friends. He is so lucky to have—to have had—them.</p><p>“So, Tim, what’s going on?” Conner asks after they’ve ordered their drinks. “Your texts sounded so serious.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim looks at the lemonade he ordered. He takes a deep breath. “Remember what I said before about leaving Gotham?” The others exchange looks.</p><p>“Yeah. What’s… Tim?” Cassie says.</p><p>“I’m leaving Gotham.” Tim whispers.</p><p>“You are.” Conner says, a statement, not a question.</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim licks his lips. “I got into the music program I auditioned for. I’m leaving in less than a week.” They murmur words of congratulations, but it is clear there is a sad undertone.</p><p>“How long will you be gone?” Conner asks.</p><p>“At least a year. Maybe longer. Depends on who wants to hire me. I might not—” Tim bites his lip. “I might not come back.”</p><p> “Oh, Tim.” Stephanie jumps up first and wraps her arms around Tim. He is pulled against her shoulder into a fierce hug. Her hair smells distinctly fruity. “We’re going to miss you so much.” She says softly in his ear, then lets him go. Bart, then Cassie and Conner, jump up and smother Tim in hugs of their own. Tim smiles and grips Bart’s shirt and Conner’s bicep.</p><p>“I’m really happy for you, Tim.” Cassie says, patting his back. “I knew you could do it.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Tim says, sitting back down. “I’m going to miss you guys. A lot.” He does his best to keep his face dead, fighting to hide the sadness chilling him.</p><p>“You better call all the time.” Bart demands, giving him his most serious (not very serious) expression.</p><p>“Of course.” Tim says.</p><p>“Seriously, man.” Conner levels him with a glare, albeit a playful one. “You better text and stuff, or I will personally go to wherever the hell you are and personally kick your ass for not keeping in touch.”</p><p>“Okay, okay!” Tim laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I already agreed!” They laugh, and Tim feels like maybe, just maybe, this will be okay.</p><p>He feels both like he has gotten a weight off his chest and like the weight has been doubled when he waves goodbye to his friends and pulls out of the parking lot on his own. He is immensely relived to have gotten through his farewells without tears, and he is determined to keep it this way as he fixes his eyes on the highway. Now he just has to say goodbye to Jason. Sure, he still has to officially drop out of his courses and whatnot, but those arrangements are less pressing. He can’t put off talking to Jason much longer.</p><p>It’s just that every time he goes to pick up his phone, he has to think of the words to tell Jason that he loves him but he’s leaving him behind. And that hurts. How can he say these things to Jason over a text, or even through a phone call? The simple answer is he can’t. He realizes that the only true option is for him to go see Jason and tell him face-to-face what he’s choosing. He owes Jason that much. It’s going to be so much harder, to have to see the hurt cloud over Jason’s bright blue eyes, to see Jason turn away from him like Tim knows he will to hide his pain. It will hurt to know Tim is the cause of that pain. But he’s making the right decision. He has to be. Tim has to trust that he’s on the right path. There isn’t time for him to slow down and second-guess himself, right? Right?</p><p><em>Hey, are you home?</em> Tim texts a day before his flight across the U.S. leaves. It took him this long to work up the nerve. He still doesn’t feel ready for this, with anxiety and shame gripping his heart in a thick, sticky, and warm grasp. But Tim knows he can’t put it off any longer.</p><p>Jason texts back pretty quickly, but every second between Tim’s text and Jason feels like an eternity for something to go wrong. What is Jason thinking? Is he going to be hurt by this? How broken will their relationship be after this point? The questions fluttering around Tim’s skull like moths are pointless and draining. Tim doesn’t know because he is not Jason, and the only way to find out is to go through with what Tim knows he has to do and quit trying to avoiding the unavoidable.</p><p><em>Yea, Y?</em> Jason text back in his characteristically improper grammar.</p><p><em>Can I come over? We need to talk.</em> That sounds so stupid, Tim realizes after he sends it. He sounds like a parent about to sit their child down and tell them that their dog died. This has got to be setting off all kinds of alarm bells in Jason’s head.</p><p><em>What’s going on?</em> Jason says after a painfully long rest. Tim flexes his hands. He doesn’t want to have this conversation via text, but he needs Jason to understand that it’s vital that they talk today.</p><p><em>I’m leaving. Need to talk to you first.</em> Tim replies, hating how the words leaving look when he tries to imagine Jason reading them. He can only imagine the emotions Jason felt at those words. Disappointment, because Tim is turning him down, and sadness that Tim is leaving, and maybe even anger at Tim for throwing away his offer. Mostly, he thinks Jason is probably just hurt. The man doesn’t respond for a minute, then two, then five, so Tim sends another text.</p><p><em>Please? It’s really important.</em> No response. Tim frowns. He needs to talk to Jason, and it has to be today.<em> Fine. I’m sorry. Be there in thirty minutes.</em> Tim can’t leave without this goodbye to Jason to reach some semblance of closure, and he’s going to go rap on their door and demand it if he has to. He’d rather Jason just answer him, though. Tim sighs and stands. It’s time. He has to do this. He has to. He owes Jason a proper goodbye no matter how much it’s going to hurt either of them. Jason deserves that. He deserves that and so much more. Jason deserves a world beyond what he thinks he does, Tim knows. He can tell from the way Jason talks and the broken look in his eyes whenever he and Tim get close to one another. Jason doesn’t like himself. He certainly doesn’t think himself worthy of half the things he does deserve.</p><p>If only Jason could see himself through the halo of Tim’s vision. Maybe then he would understand the light and life he brought to Tim’s life, and how he pulled Tim away from overworking himself and exhaustion. Jason deserves to know the way he makes Tim’s heart stutter and his cheeks heat. Tim can only hope Jason doesn’t blame himself for Tim leaving.</p><p>He tucks his phone in his jean’s pocket and keeps the ringer on in case Jason was just busy for a moment and is in fact typing out a response to Tim right now. But his phone doesn’t buzz, not just outside his apartment, not in the parking lot of his building, and not in his car as he drives back to Wayne Manor. It’s another rainy day, and Tim can see the tracks the raindrops trace down the glossy faces of the dozens of windows.</p><p>Tim steels himself with a deep breath and moment of closed eyes before he steps out of his vehicle and approaches the grandiose front doors. He knocks thrice before he stands and waits on the cold threshold of the imposing house. It isn’t long he has to wait. The door is opened by the man Tim recognizes as Alfred Pennyworth from his last visits.</p><p>“Ah, Master Timothy. What a pleasant surprise. Do come in.” Alfred politely holds the door aside for him. Tim steps into the warm relief of the manor’s heat. It was colder than he expected outside, and he foolishly forgot to bring a coat.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Tim says as he stands somewhat awkwardly in the entrance to the house. “I’m, ah, here to see Jason.”</p><p>A brief, odd expression flicks over the butler’s face, but it was too fast for Tim to decipher. “I’m afraid you’ve just missed Master Jason.” Alfred says, the words crisp and clipped in his British dialect.</p><p>“I what?” Tim says, furrowing his brow. He texted Jason, so he knew Tim was coming and… <em>oh</em>. Jason didn’t <em>want</em> to see Tim. He opens and closes his mouth once. This changed his plans immensely. How is he supposed to say goodbye and explain now?</p><p>“I’m afraid Master Jason left in a bit of a hurry just before you arrived. Had you been a few minutes earlier, I’m sure you would have caught him. As it is, he instructed me to give this to you.” Alfred pulls an envelope out of his jacket and hands it Tim. Tim flips it over and sees his name written in Jason’s distinct, slanted script.</p><p>Tim’s face falls when he sees it. What does this mean? Jason doesn’t want to say goodbye? He didn’t want to or couldn’t give Tim these last few minutes face to face? Tim feels unfairly cheated. He was going to explain. He had things he wanted to say to Jason, things he could only say looking Jason straight in his bright blue eyes, but Jason left. He dashed out the door the minute he heard Tim was coming around in hopes of not running into Tim. Tim tries not to take that as an insult, but it’s hard.</p><p>Tim owes Jason a proper goodbye, and Jason owes Tim the chance to deliver it, but he vanished without telling Tim where to, and Tim realizes that he might not ever see Jason again. It hits him hard, and he swallows back the angry tears that threaten to emerge.</p><p>“Well, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Tim says, inching back to the door.</p><p>“Would you like to stay until Master Jason returns?”</p><p>“No, I better not.” Tim says forlornly. Jason left so he wouldn’t have to see Tim, and Tim’s not going to push the issue further than he already has. After all, he’s supposed to be the one leaving Jason. Tim thanks Mr. Pennyworth once more, and steps back out into the Gotham rain.</p><p>It’s the kind of rain that doesn’t fall in distinct drops, rather oozing out of the clouds in a fine and inescapable mist that dampens everything it can touch. Tim feels like his very heart has been dampened as he slides into his car with a wet head of hair. He’s so very disappointed he won’t get to say goodbye. He put it off too long, and when it turned out Jason didn’t want to talk, Tim is left with no time to figure out another way. That’s it. That was the anticlimactic ending to his and Jason’s story, he thinks.</p><p>Well, there’s still the letter.</p><p>Tim looks at the manor, and then back at the envelope with his name printed on it, the letters sharp as knives. He tears the envelope open without grace, the flap ripping unevenly. Tim sighs in frustration and pulls out the letter inside. It isn’t long, but the handwriting is unmistakably Jason’s. Tim fidgets nervously and begins reading.</p><p>
  <em>Tim,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sorry. I know you wanted to talk face to face, but I already know what you were going to say. It’s okay. I get it. You’ve got a great future ahead of you, kid, and nothing would make me happier than to see you happy and successful. I understand that being with me wasn’t the way to get you to that goal. I’m not going to hold it against you. I’m really proud for you and happy that you’re getting everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve. You deserve it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to say goodbye. I’m selfish like that, I suppose.</em>
</p><p>Tim frowns. Again with the self-deprecating comments from Jason. They make his heart ache a little more than it already is.</p><p><em>I figured it’s better if I don’t say goodbye. I—</em>there’s a bit of a sentence crossed out in angry, dark slashes. Tim squints, but he can’t decipher the words underneath. <em>Can’t do this and pretend like things are okay between us.</em> More scribbling. <em>Sorry</em>.</p><p><em>Take care, Tim. You’re</em>—even more words crossed out, and Tim can just picture Jason’s face as he grits his teeth to scratch out a phrase that comes out too sappy, the slightly flushed look of embarrassment he gets occasionally. Tim licks his lips and keeps reading.</p><p>
  <em>You’re amazing. I’m really glad I got to meet you and shit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Good luck.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jason</em>
</p><p>Tim reads the letter again, and then once more. That’s it? That’s all he gets? He has so many things he wants to tell Jason, to help him understand that it’s not his fault, and that Tim loves him too—which is what Tim can hear the subtext whispering throughout the whole letter: I love you, I love you, I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough, I get why you’re leaving me—and it makes him simultaneously tear up from sadness and anger. Jason doesn’t get it. It’s not his fault, and never will be. And Tim loves him too.</p><p>Tim bows his head over the letter, a tear rolling down his nose and splashing on ink that barely seemed dry. If only he had been just a little bit faster to arrive, maybe he could have stopped Jason at the door and tell him the things Tim needed to. But, as his father would point out, there’s no use in dwelling on what-if’s and if-only’s. He was too late, too late to stop Jason, too late to tell him everything he wanted to say, and too late to get another chance at this until too late has stretched and broken beyond redemption.</p><p>The sniffles grow, and Tim rests his hand between his head and the steering wheel. He needs to go. He’s been sitting here too long, and the longer he waits, the more likely it is that one of the Waynes will peer out the front windows and spy Tim still lingering. Tim scrubs his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the tears and the damps spot under his nose. He just wants to go lie in bed and mope. He needs to go.</p><p>Tim starts the car and blinks away any residual moisture in his eyes. As he pulls away from the manor, he is almost overwhelmed by the sense of loss and anguish that fills him. Tim tries to bury it. It’s too late. This thing between him and Jason is over, and the sooner he can accept that and move on, the better it will be for everyone.</p><p>It’s too late to go back now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So much for talking, huh? </p><p>Will things ever get better for them? See you next chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Leaving? Or Not</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The airport terminal is busy and loud and like most of Gotham, generally unpleasant. Tim thumbs the ticket he has in his hands, the Californian address labeled in straight rows, along with his name, seat number, and boarding group. The sun is just setting outside the large, dirty windows that overlook the tarmac buzzing with planes, workers in bright orange vests, and large trucks piled with luggage. At least, Tim knows the sun should be setting right about now. He can’t see it through the heavy rain coming down.</p><p>In line with the rest of Tim’s luck, it seems that the universe decided he wasn’t going through enough hardship, so it sent him a freezing downpour of almost-slush that made the roads unpleasant and moving his luggage less pleasant. To make matters worse, a wind like long, spindly fingers had come along, at first slipping against his cheek and tugging on his scarf, then clawing at any sliver of exposed flesh it could find and yanking on his umbrella. It threw the pellets of rain in a direction that rendered his umbrella pretty much useless. By the time he got inside the building, he was wet, freezing, and generally miserable.</p><p> The weather has got to be hell on his violin, too, Tim thinks as he looks at the case resting next to him on an airport seat. The cold is going to make his strings fall so far out of tune; it’s going to be a pain to mend later. Tim sighs for the thousandth time that day. He’s not going to lie; he feels like crap right now.</p><p>After his not-goodbye with Jason, Tim spent the rest of his night and most of this morning packing up and preparing for his departure this evening. It was torturous. Every item he held, folded, or boxed was laced with painful memories of the man who fell suddenly into Tim’s life and just as quickly left it. It hurt. A lot.</p><p>Tim dug his nails harshly into the palms of his hands. This sucks. He can’t steer his mind away from Jason, no matter how hard he tries. He focuses on the coffee shop across the terminal from him, and thinks about how Jason would make coffee for Tim when Tim was too worn out to do it himself. Tim watches planes swoop into the air and down again, and thinks about what Jason is doing right now. Tim wonders if he is thinking about Tim. Tim people-watches, and every passing couple entwining their fingers together or leaning on each other’s shoulders makes Tim realize how much he took Jason’s warm, comforting presence for granted.</p><p>Tim can almost feel Jason’s shoulder bumping against his as they sat on the sofa, or the way their fingers would brush when Tim handed things to Jason—for too long, how did Tim not realize? It was right there the whole time and he obliviously blundered past both his and Jason’s feelings. Tim still remembers the scrape of Jason’s work-worn, callused hand as it rested upon Tim’s. Tim will never forget the way Jason made his insides soar and his heart to feel like it was expanding in happiness until it stretched past his ribcage, becoming too big to keep in.</p><p>The euphoria of being around Jason is a sharp contrast to how he feels now. The anxiety and sadness squeezing him, making his breath uneven and his hands shaky, are matched only by the thick-as-molasses melancholy that made him feel like tar was being poured down his throat until he can’t-speak-can’t-breath-can’t-live—</p><p>Tim pushes his nails harder into his palms, the indents he creates an ugly pinkish brown.</p><p>How can he do this? How can he be doing this? He was sure he was doing the right thing when he accepted—but, no, that’s a lie. Tim was never sure. He certainly isn’t now. Everything feels so wrong, like he’s a magnet being pulled in the wrong direction. How can this be the right decision when everything inside Tim is <em>screaming</em> that it is <em>wrong</em>?</p><p>Tim grits his teeth. No. It’s okay. He’s okay. He just has to get to California and settle in. He’ll love it once he’s there, learning, performing, and taking his skills to a whole new dimension they’ve never seen before. He won’t regret this. He won’t.</p><p><em>But I already do</em>. Tim’s voice whispers in a deafening shout. <em>I already do regret this</em>. How much is Tim willing to put up with before he has to seriously question if he made the right decision? How can he keep second-guessing himself? Tim bows his head, clenching his jaw. This is absurd. The amount of anxiety he feels in this moment is preposterous. This is supposed to be a good thing. Tim looks at his phone, which still does not display any texts or calls from Jason. And it won’t. That was the end of it.</p><p><em>No.</em> Tim can’t accept that. He bounces his leg and looks towards the exit. <em>If I go now, I could still find Jason</em>. Tim shakes his head. No. He can’t turn back now. That’s beyond ridiculous. Yet, suddenly, this new idea is so appetizing. Imagine, if he ran from the airport, left this behind, and went back to Jason. It would be amazing.</p><p>Then again, he doesn’t know if Jason would even take him back now. But, a huge part of him wants to throw it all to the wind. Something in his chest itches for him to jump up, to go. He wants to be with Jason, so, so badly. How did he end up so successful yet so miserable?</p><p>He was so happy for a little while. Being with Jason, studying the guitar, Jason living in the spare bedroom and being there in the mornings and at midnight. Movies with Jason and nights out with his friends were a kind of wonderful that Tim had never tasted, and he’s addicted. He wants more, and now that it’s slipping through his fingers, he’s getting a kind of desperate he’s never felt before.</p><p>He’s throwing it all away, now, and for what? Yes, this music program. If you had asked Tim a year ago, there would have been no debate. But he’s a very different person from who he was before. He’s found a new part of life that he loves—loved—and relationships that he never thought he could have. And he decided that he valued this music more than all of that.</p><p>And it’s terrible and gut-wrenching, but he’s having serious doubts. He wants it all, and he thought that by throwing himself into a decision he could be happy with it. He’s still not convinced he won’t be. The one thing he is certain of is that at this moment, he isn’t happy at all. He needs to be honest with himself. He needs to shed away all his inclinations and opinions and just ask himself, what is my gut telling me right now?</p><p>It isn’t a feeling, or a place or a thing that Tim hears his whole body screaming.</p><p>It’s a name.</p><p>And Tim knows. This is wrong.</p><p>Tim is on his feet like lightning. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Suddenly, Tim is one hundred percent certain he knows what he needs to do. He seizes his carry-on bag and his violin case and is rushing towards the security gate. He finally knows what he wants, and it isn’t what he has right here.</p><p>He’s giving urgent words to woman behind the check-in counter, but they can’t give him his luggage back, it’s already been loaded onto the plane. Tim runs his hands desperately through his hair. He can’t wait any more. It has to be now. Okay. Okay. He’ll leave his luggage and have it sent back later. He’s finally sure he knows what he wants, and right now, nothing can stop him. He waves away the woman and is out the door.</p><p>His gut is telling him a name, and it’s Jason. Tim is going to go to Jason, and there’s nothing short of a bullet that could stop him now.</p><p>//                      //                      //</p><p>Tim screeches into the driveway of the manor, and jumps out of the car. He’s rapping on the door, his face flushed from the cold and his pumping heart. There’s no answer for a minute, and Tim knows it’s a little rude, but he knocks again eagerly, because Jason. He’s going to make this right. He’s not going to let this get away from him. He’s finally sure he knows what he wants.</p><p>“Master Timothy!” Alfred sounds surprised to see him. “I was under the impression you were leaving Gotham today.”</p><p>“Uh. Yeah. I was. Is Jason here? I really need to talk to him. Please, tell him it’s really important.”</p><p>“Indeed, I would, Master Tim, if Jason had not been out for the past couple of hours.”</p><p>Tim’s face falls. Then he sets his expression. “Where did he go?” Tim is going to find Jason, and he’s not letting this go. He’ll scour Gotham, camp out here hours for his return, but he is going to talk to Jason as soon as possible.</p><p>“I do believe Master Jason grunted something regarding ‘getting a drink’ before he departed. Aside from that, I am afraid I don’t know where he went.” Alfred says with a creased brow. “May I take a message for you?”</p><p>“Ah, no thank you.” Tim says, biting his lip. What he has to say needs to be face-to-face. A note or a message won’t do.</p><p>“Hey, who’s at the door?” A voice comes from inside the house, and then Dick Grayson is peering over Alfred’s shoulder at Tim. “Hey, Tim!” He smiles. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’m looking for Jason.” Tim says seriously. “Guess I missed him again, though.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Dick says, looking contemplative. He moves to a table near the door where a house phone and paper pad rest. “I’m not sure, but you might be able to find him here.” He scribbles something on the pad, and tears the sheet off. “It’s his favorite bar. If he’s upset—er, if he’s looking for a drink, you can probably find him there.” Tim nods and accepts the address, feeling the unpleasant curdling of guilt in his chest. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but he’s probably the reason Jason is drinking right now. It’s okay, though, because Tim’s going to fix this. He’s going to make this right, tonight.</p><p>“Alright. Thank you.” Tim says. He’s going to track this bar down, and hopefully Jason. If not, he’ll just come back here and wait. Screw what anyone else thinks. Tim Drake is in love with Jason Todd and he is not going to let this slip away from him.</p><p>“Good luck.” Dick says, and then Tim is turning and rushing back to his car. Jason’s name is like a drum beat in his head, timed with the pulse of his heart. <em>Jason, Jason, Jason</em>. He has to find Jason. He pushes the speed limit driving back into Gotham, pulling up directions for the bar on his phone. It isn’t far from where he is, Tim’s phone predicting an arrival time of fifteen minutes from now.</p><p>Tim still isn’t sure that Jason will even be there, but he begins to run over what he’ll say when he gets there. He has to pick the right words to fix what Tim was so close to shattering between them. Tim shivers to think how close he was to losing Jason. He won’t let that happen again.</p><p>It’s dark by the time he parks by the bar, the sky is dark, but the neon light of the bar sign casts a bright glow from its sheltered corner. Tim wouldn’t have noticed this place if he hadn’t been actively seeking it out. The lights inside are warm and soft, and Tim breathes in the scent of alcohol and smoke. <em>Jason, Jason</em>. Where is Jason?</p><p>Tim doesn’t see the familiar head of hair in any of the booths, nor by any of the pool tables, nor at the bar. Panic seizes Tim. Jason isn’t here. He was so sure—Jason had to be here; what is he going to do? He’s taking a stuttering breath when the door to the men’s bathroom swings open, and there he is.</p><p>Jason looks a little terrible, but Tim couldn’t care less, because right there is Jason Todd. Tim found him, and the relief that fills him like helium lifting him up is sudden. Then, another spike of nerves hits him. What’s he going to say? Will Jason be upset that Tim left him?</p><p>What if Jason doesn’t take him back? Tim’s heart is beating against the inside of his ribs like fists.</p><p>Jason’s gaze swings over to where Tim is and stops dead. Tim sees rather than hears his name on Jason’s lips, then they are striding toward one another, meeting in the middle.</p><p>“Tim—what?” Jason is clearly confused, and Tim can’t remember any of his plans because here is Jason right in front of him. It’s Jason-<em>Jason-JasonJasonJason</em>—</p><p>Tim surges up onto his toes and eagerly connects his mouth with Jason’s. This is good. This is what he wants. He knows now, for sure. This, right here, is what he wants the most. And he’s not going to ever let it go.</p><p>Jason’s surprise quickly fades, and he grips Tim tightly and pulls him closer.  It feels good, <em>really</em> good. Tim has been waiting for this, waiting to be able to kiss Jason like this. Sure, he’s kissed Jason once before, but it was never with this liberating knowledge that Jason was his to keep now. Well, he hopes.</p><p>Tim breaks away with a sudden look of concern.</p><p>“Jason, I’m so sorry—”</p><p>“Shut up.” Jason cuts him off swiftly. Tim stops more out of surprise at Jason’s blunt words than anything else.</p><p>“I—what?”</p><p>“I said shut up. Don’t apologize for anything, gonna say that right now.” Jason says, bring his hand up to cup Tim’s face. His thumb rubs the angle of Tim’s cheekbone.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Why are you here?” Jason asks, a bittersweet expression on his face. “Don’t you have a huge future to be seizing right about now?”</p><p>“No.” Tim shakes his head just a little. “Not that one. The only future I want is standing right in front of me.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Jason asks softly, his tone not matching the challenging nature of the words. “What about your music? What about your mom?”</p><p>Tim’s expression becomes less awestruck with Jason in front of him and more serious.</p><p>“Listen, Jason.” Tim makes sure he has Jason’s full attention before going on. “I love my mother. I respect her, and she’s really helped me become the person I am today.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know.” Jason says, a little impatiently.</p><p>“<em>But</em>, I am my own person, and I make my own decisions. It’s my life, and I’m the one who gets final say in my future. My mother may have controlled my life when I was twelve, but I’m a young adult living independently and independently making my own choices. I’ve let her take control of me for too long. I’m done with that. From now on, <em>I</em> get to choose. And I choose you.” Tim’s voice drops down to a whisper.</p><p>Jason doesn’t answer. He looks stunned—he looks stunning. Even with the scent of liquor on his heavy breaths, the color of his eyes looks even more remarkable from eight inches away. Tim puts his hand up to rest on Jason’s, frozen on his face.</p><p>“I choose you.”</p><p>Then, he and Jason are kissing. Tim can’t even think this time, because Jason. He thinks maybe a bar patron whistles at them, but he doesn’t care. He’s grabbing onto any fabric he can clutch in his hands, pulling Jason as close as possible. Jason’s hands are like twin suns transmitting searing warmth where they land and sending brilliant light right into Tim’s soul until he feels like the happiness is so much that it will glow out of his mouth and eyes because it’s Jason and it’s so much, so much of what Tim has wanted.</p><p>“I love you.” Tim says when they finally break for air. “I love you, Jason, and if you’ll have me—”</p><p>“Goddamn, Baby-bird.” Jason interrupts. “Like I could ever really turn you away. I—” Jason’s breath catches for a second, and Tim’s heart beat is loud and fast. “I love you, too.”</p><p>And it’s like a symphony under Tim’s skin. His heart pounds with the deep crash of timpani, and Jason’s fingertips make his insides sing like the plaintive melodies of cello strings, and when Jason’s lips come to Tim’s again, it’s brass fanfare making him soar. Because while leaving would have been a huge step in Tim’s musical career, Jason right in front of him and being in his arms is the best kind of music. Jason himself is like someone fashioned a being out of quarter notes and pensive rests and chaotic then resolving chords. The blue in his eyes is like a minor scale, soft and sad sounding, but reaching and beautiful. Jason’s lips pressing against his are like Beethoven’s angriest symphonic themes all paying in Tim’s head. It is overpowering and cacophonous and yet it all clicks together to form an order out of the chaos. It’s just Jason. It’s just how he is, and Tim wonders how he could ever thought even for a moment that he could give this up. Jason’s music is the soundtrack to Tim’s soul, and Tim is one hundred percent certain that with Jason at his side, there isn’t a thing in the world he can’t do. That’s just the miracle of Jason Todd.</p><p>Jason, who forgives him and still wants him. Jason, who still has so much love to offer Tim. It’s more than Tim could have ever even dreamed of. All the residual tension seeps away from him, bleeding out of him like the ink of his sheet music. His shoulders relax, the wrinkle in his brow smooths like a ripple vanishing on water’s surface, and his legs suddenly feel like jelly. But he won’t ever fall, not with the way Jason’s arms hold him securely. He’s well and truly safe and happy here. It’s going to be okay. Jason wants him still, Tim wants Jason. Whatever happens next, they have each other. They’re going to be okay.</p><p>Tim Drake is in love with Jason Todd, and Jason Todd loves him right back. Tim couldn’t be happier.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A short, but sweet chapter :)</p><p>Just one more to go! Thank you for reading with me through this story &lt;3 See you for the next and final chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“That’s the last one, I think.” Dick dusts off his hands and accepts the water bottle Tim hands him.</p><p>“Thanks again for helping out.” Tim says, his shyness dissipating after an hour of heavy lifting alongside Jason’s brother.</p><p>“My pleasure.” Dick smiles his thousand-watt grin, and a scoff sounds from Jason, who’s hidden in the kitchen.</p><p>“Don’t be so self-satisfied, Dick.” Jason calls, poking his head out of the door of the doorway separating Tim’s living room and kitchen. “You’re only here because you owe me for locking Bruce and I in that study.”</p><p>Dick laughs openly. “Still not sorry about that, Little Wing.”</p><p>Jason scowls. “My face is still tender.”</p><p>“Right.” Tim says. “More like your ego, Jay.” Tim and Dick laugh together while Jason looks affronted.</p><p>“I can’t believe this. My brother and my boyfriend teaming up against me. I knew putting you two together was a bad idea.” They settle onto Tim’s sofa. Well, not really just Tim’s sofa anymore. As of today, it’s officially Tim and Jason’s. The whole place is theirs now. Jason is back, and Tim is here to stay, and Dick is—well, Tim supposes Dick is here to make gooey expressions whenever Jason or Tim makes a sappy move, like the way Jason pulls Tim against his side, regardless of the sweat on either of them.</p><p>Tim doesn’t mind, and from the contented look on Jason’s face, he doesn’t either. It’s nice, this thing between them. Now that they’ve made it official, it suddenly became a lot easier to just coexist. Well, Tim still had to make the necessary calls that night. It had been a hassle. Yes, he’s sure he’s not going. Yes, they should give his spot to someone else. No, Dad, this isn’t a last minute decision. Well, it kind of was, but it was a last minute clicking of the puzzle pieces in Tim’s heart that finally revealed to him what his innermost desires were.</p><p>Speaking of, Tim entwines his fingers with Jason’s. It’s surreal. It feels like an odd dream where Tim just gets to touch Jason and be close to him and be around him all the time. Apparently that’s what it’s like when you’re dating someone. Though, with the way Tim and Jason had been acting before Jason “moved out,” they were pretty much already dating. But somehow, being formally Jason’s, and Jason being his is so much sweeter than anything they had before. Tim’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it. He’s not worried; Tim’s got all the time in the world to exactly that.</p><p>Dick’s stomach grumbles loudly, breaking the moment between Tim and Jason. Tim huffs a laugh and pulls away from Jason.</p><p>“Why don’t I order some pizza?” Tim says, pulling out his cell phone. “I think we could all do with some food. Cheesy breadsticks, too.”</p><p>“Tim, I haven’t told you this enough. I love you.” Jason says, a goofy grin making his face shine. Tim blushes despite himself. Dick chuckles at the two of them.</p><p>Tim ducks out into the hall with his cheeks still pink, and opens his phone to start dialing. His phone rings before he can enter any number, though.</p><p>His heart trips in its happy rhythm. It’s his mother. He swallows. He hasn’t talked to her since his decision to leave his music behind, and he’s admittedly a little scared. He doesn’t know what she has to say, but he’s not hopeful. After all, her last interaction with Jason was pretty much the disaster of the year. Tim hits answer before he can think too much about it.</p><p>“Mom?”</p><p>“Timothy.” Tim can’t read her emotions yet.</p><p>“Let me explain, Mom.” Tim starts, anxiety rising up in an old, familiar pulse. “I’m sorry, I know you really wanted me to do this, and I did too. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disappoint you, but I really believe that staying in Gotham is the right thing, and being here with all the people I’ve met is really great—”</p><p>“Timothy.” Her sharp voice cuts through Tim’s babbling.</p><p>“Yeah?” He croaks.</p><p>“It’s okay.”</p><p>“I—what?” Tim halts on the verge of launching into more explanations. “What?” He says again, because he’s sure he heard wrong.</p><p>“It’s okay.” His mother’s voice is clear and smooth, and she sounds calm. She doesn’t sound angry, she doesn’t sound bitter, and she doesn’t sound disappointed. It’s… perplexing.</p><p>“Mom?” Tim says unsurely. He’s waiting for the catch.</p><p>“Are you happy in Gotham, Timothy?” Tim is perplexed beyond belief, but he answers with absolute certainty.</p><p>“Yes, I am.”</p><p>“And you want this more than the scholarship?”</p><p>“I really do.”</p><p>“Then there’s no issue.”</p><p>“Really?” Tim can’t stop the dubious words from escaping. “You aren’t mad?”</p><p>She laughs, and it’s a pleasant, surprising sound. “Timothy, whatever else you may think, all I really want is for you to be happy. If it’s being in Gotham that does that, then you should follow what your heart tells you. I talked with your father, and it sounds like you have something really valuable there.”</p><p>“Jason is amazing.” Tim agrees.</p><p>“I am… I’m sorry for being so hard on you and the Todd boy.” Her voice gets quieter. “I never wanted to hurt you. I truly believed that your music was the best path for you, but it’s clear to me now that I was wrong. Why else would you have cast it aside? I was quick to judge, and I hope you can forgive me for that. I’m so happy that you’re happy, Tim.” Tim can hear the heaviness of her weary smile through the line. “I only wish you had told me sooner, and that I could have listened. Let’s both be grateful for your father, hm?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Tim laughs, a little shakily. He’s sort of in shock. Is the conversation really happening right now? Is he really getting his mother’s stamp of approval? This is so far from any of the possible outcomes that Tim considered that he’s completely at a loss about how to respond.</p><p>“I have to apologize, Tim. It’s clear to me that I did not live up to the standard a mother should. I need you to know how much I love you, though. I just want what’s best for you, and sometimes it’s so hard for me to accept that you’re not the little boy toddling around with a camera half as big as him or the young teenager working wonders on his instrument. You’ve truly been a gift, Timothy, and I am so, so proud of you. It’s just very difficult for me to accept that you…” She pauses, emotion making her voice thick. “That you don’t need me anymore. You’ve flown the nest, my darling, and I couldn’t be prouder. It’s just, I always want to be your mom, you know?”</p><p>Oh, no, now Tim’s crying with her. “You are, Mom. You’ll always be my mom, no matter what. I love you too, okay? I love you, and I forgive you.”</p><p>She sniffs softly. “Thank you, Timothy. You’ve become such a wonderful young man. I am so, so very proud of you.”</p><p>“Thanks, Mom.” Tim murmurs back. “Thank you for being willing to give Jason and I another chance, too.”</p><p>She laughs, her voice still a little murky. “You can tell that boy he still needs to get himself some better manners, but yes. I’m willing to see this out.”</p><p>Tim can’t help his little sigh of relief. It’s going to be okay.</p><p>“Now, about your music. I know you decided against leaving Gotham, but I found some things that might interest you right here in Gotham itself.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Tim says, intrigued. He’s momentarily distracted by Jason peering down the hall at him, giving him a quizzical look. Tim waves him off and continues talking. “What do you have?”</p><p>“Well, there’s a hotel downtown looking for a returning musician to play in the lobby and for dinners. It’s decent pay, too. Also, there’s an opening in the Gotham Symphonic Orchestra that’s auditioning violinists right now. I’ve sent you all the information, so you can look it over. But,” she clears her throat and pauses. “It’s up to you.” Tim smiles.</p><p>“Thank you, Mom. I love you.”</p><p>“I love you, too. Take care of yourself, okay?”</p><p>“Okay. I’ll call you when I’ve looked over the stuff.”</p><p>“You do that.” She says, with a little of the old, bossy mother peeking through. Tim laughs. There’s the mom he knows. He was beginning to suspect mind control. But it’s still her, and she’s okay with what Tim’s chosen, and she’s even helping him settle back into Gotham. Yeah, things are going to be just fine.</p><p>Tim finally has everything he wants. He has Jason. He has his friends. He has his music, and though nothing is like he imagined it, he wouldn’t change a thing. Being able to squish onto his sofa between Jason and Connor with Stephanie sprawled across their laps and Dick in an arm chair and Bart loudly crunching chips and Cassie shushing him; it’s the best feeling he’s ever had.</p><p>Well, maybe <em>one</em> of the best, Tim thinks as Jason presses his lips to his in a quiet, chaste kiss. Because this right here? There’s nothing better.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for sticking with me through this whole story! It's been a pleasure to write and a delight to get your feedback. </p><p>If you're looking for something more angsty, check out my older works! I have some new things I'm writing now to look forward to, too. Thanks for joining me on this story &lt;3 </p><p>All my love to you~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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